If you are of a certain age you know that no one writes more elegantly about baseball than Roger Angell.
Angell has been at the New Yorker forever and he has written a memoir — a memoirette actually. I'd say it's a short series of ruminations about his incredible life. But if I did, you wouldn't read it. It's really more like a series of paintings, each captivating in is own way. Yet as different as the recollections may be, you will definitely recognize the brush strokes as Angell's.
He writes about New York before Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall. About his step-dad E. B. White. About sailing. And martinis. And writing. And Christmas when your parents are divorced. Angell's in his eighties now and you savor his words because you know they won't continue to tumble at you forever.
"Let Me Finish" is the title and I for one hope he's not even close.
Harry's daily commentary can be heard on many across the country.