The jo-ree is back on the windowsill. I apologized for misleading him yesterday, and told him to go about his legitimate business. This time he isn't just cheeping, he's singing a tune! If I were more superstitious, in this tumbled landscape, I would hope he's not trying to tell me something.

I've worked on the book--AGAIN!!!-- all morning. Remarks from Ramey keep sending me back to clarify and elaborate on a few points.

Stormy weather used to be something I could joke about, even sing about. But never no more! The devastation is too terrible to comprehend. I sent an email to my friend Sandra H.B., who is a consulting professor at the University. She has an apartment in Florence, Italy, which is where I hope she was when the monster rolled over Tuscaloosa. I hope to hear from her. Sandra B.H., Hoyt's widow, lives up toward Gadsden somewhere, on a lake, and I hope she's OK, too. Yesterday, when I went to see about Susan, I passed Betty Jo's and Carole M.'s houses, and they seemed to be OK. In fact, I don't think I saw any real damage on Ziegler Road or close to Susan's house.
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I called Betty Jo, and she hadn't heard from any of our far-flung classmates. She said Sandra has children and grandchildren who live in Tuscaloosa. She also said a bunch of people were killed in a retirement home near Leeds, probably in St. Clair County, and a daughter of our 1950's police chief, John Pledger, was one of them. Betty said something about Joyce Earle, but not that she was hurt.

I also emailed Jack, but haven't heard from him yet.