so it goes

Where are all the good men dead? In the heart or in the head?

Evidently both.

So it goes.

I have never finished a Vonnegut book. It's not because they lose me or I don't enjoy them; quite the contrary, actually. I love his books. I love them so much and I get so stuck in them that I can't make it all the way through one.

So it goes.

I remember when I first met the kids' godfather. Our first few days were a flurry of book exchanges. He lent me Lullaby and the first book I lent him was Slaughterhouse Five. My torn-in-half, tattered, duct-taped Slaughterhouse Five.

He gave it back a few days later and bought his own copy. I never asked if he finished it; I hope he did. I'd like to know how it ends.

So it goes.

The Mayor of our fair city was close friends with Vonnegut, and if you ever find yourself in the bar that he owns (or owned, or something) you will see more than a few monstrously large original prints of Vonnegut's hanging on the walls. I think they all just really appreciated in value.

So it goes.

So long, Mr. Vonnegut. You were one of the greats. More than J.D., more than Hunter, maybe even more than Jack, you touched people and changed people and made people think. Thanks for all your amazing work. You were a genius and you will be missed.