More From the Far Field of Winters

Two emails in four days! Readers will remember that our poor wayfarer has just left a temporary job and is now on the lookout for another such, and is currently staying with friends--or family, we can't tell. We wish we could say that, based on the clues presented here, we can fix our traveler's location, but we cannot. The aunt and uncle he refers to could be anyone. His outlook seems to remain good--nothing about the "groping limbs of darkness" we have heard about before. And he still has a sense of humor.

I think I must be getting less interesting. Last night my aunt and uncle took me into their living room because they wanted to discuss something important with me.

My aunt did all the talking. She said they didn't know what my plans were or what I intended to do and I said that made three of us. She said she was glad I was there in their apartment and was welcome to stay as long as I wanted--though she of course would take no rent. She said wasn't it true that I really only wanted freedom and no close connections with anyone, at least not now, and I said yes, absolutely true. Then she said I was a puzzle and she was going to figure me out, as if she hadn't just articulated the very key. She said she'd assumed I would stay awhile in _____ and take up the pursuit of a teaching job, as I had before confessed to something like an interest in that, and because I was getting to be that age where if I weren't careful I could wake up an old man in a rescue mission and have no regular income. I said aunt I'm already there. She said what I needed was a regular job and a regular woman and a place to settle down, as a man needs a home and family and what did I think of that. I said I agreed completely that a regular job, woman and home would suit me fine provided my objective were neverending despair, as that had basically been the lesson of my last 20 years. And she said there was nothing wrong with teaching and I said no there wasn't. My uncle watched the ceiling. She said I had never had any career, never posted any achievement, and I said, well, yeah, probably 15 years in newspapers and 20 as a professional writer is not really a career, and those travel- and feature-writing awards don't seem like any great shakes at this point. At the time I was inclined to regard them in the light of a recognition, but I see now I was being unreasonable.

She looked at me blankly. She said a teaching job would give me a regular paycheck and I'd have all kinds of time off. I said I have all kinds of time off now. She said I'd get a pension and live my last years in comfort and I said I have never had comfort in my life and didn't expect to want any. Where's your retirement plan, she asked, and I said at present it consisted of jumping off a bridge at age 72, which she did not find humorous in the least.

Eventually she lightened up and seemed to be satisfied. We parted as if we had eached a crucial decision, and if we did actually decide something I hope to find out what it is before I'm supposed to deliver on it. I'm afraid to tell her I want to go to Florida in January. I'm afraid to offer to pay rent again because she'll say no, and I'll feel like I'm imposing.

So there are my last few days. I'm sorry for this recitation but I thought you might find it funny. It says no fine thing about me that I do.