NOTIONS: Good grief, my mailbox runneth over with love
One night last week, after dining out with friends, I walked through the cold March mist to my mailbox. I expected more medical bills for failed cancer treatments, another batch of sympathy cards and some catalogs trying to sell my late wife clothing she no longer needs. Instead, after trudging back to the house and sorting through the pile of promotional material, I found the letter from the vulture. The vulture’s first sentence consoled me on the loss of my…