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In case you didn’t hear, we lost John Updike this week.  I haven’t read much of his work in years, and regrettably, I have yet to read any of his Rabbit books, but I read Couples, The Witches of Eastwick, and most of his short stories and poetry in college and liked them very much. 

In fact, I adore his short stories.  They were, for the most part, simply brilliant.

Losing a writer like Updike is always a tragedy.  When Kurt Vonnegut died a couple years ago, I cried.  I can still remember reading the story of his death as the sun was rising and streaming through my living window on an early April morning.  Never before had a sunrise seemed so cold. 

While I didn’t have the same emotional reaction to Updike’s death, I was saddened by the loss.  I can’t help but think of all the potential stories that were still within him, now lost forever.     

Can I suggest you take ten minutes and read his short story, A&P?  It’s one of my favorites.