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Bill Zuckert15 December 1915-23 January 1997
4 February Yesterday was supposed to be my first day back at work in two weeks, and do you know what I did? I cut! I just couldn't bear the thought of going in there. And besides, I've been working on the show so hard that I haven't really had a full day off since coming home. I'll go back today. Yecchh...
You know what I hate? I mean, you know what I REALLY hate? I hate it when another on-line journalist is all sad on their page, and I read it and write an encouraging e-mail, and not only do they never answer it, but they say on their page the next day how much someone else helped them. I mean, I don't expect them to kiss my ass or anything, Lord knows, but what am I, chopped liver? And Laurel, if you read this, that doesn't mean you.
One of the boys in my show, Thomas, is missing all of the fingers on his left hand-it's just a palm and a thumb-and the other day we were sort of gathering our stuff on the third floor to move up to the fourth. Thomas asked Robin and Laura if they were able to take a bag, and Laura said that she had one hand free, and Robin said "I have almost two hands", and Thomas said: "So do I!"
Here is something my friend Jeroen wrote re my father dying. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I have ever read, and I asked permission to share it with you. "Just wanted to say I'm very sorry to read your father died, and although it seems he's moving away from you, he's not. You'll see the next time you catch the train you're very late for or find that sweater you thought you lost in Canada."
The first Christmas picture, 1965,
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