Yup, even in the woods he's big business.
When we were growing up I always envisioned Max becoming a philosophy professor. Can't you picture him standing at the blackboard in his highwaters with ink stains on his shirt and chalk on the tip of his nose? I can. It's too bad, because, all kidding aside, he's got a unique slant on the world, a love of learning and a warmth that could have done a lot of students good. Anyway, I get a kick out of his opinions, even if I don't always know what the heck he's talking about.
You might recall that some time ago I read books by the neighbors on both sides of the Nearings (The Good Life people). It was interesting to read the various takes on the same events. Recently I read the new biography of J.D. Salinger. Now I'm reading the account of Joyce Maynard, who lived with Salinger for a year when she was 18-19 years old. Next I plan to read the memoir of Salinger's daughter. Crazy, I know, but this stuff just fascinates me. For example, I know from perusing the internet that the daughter paints a very bad picture of Salinger, but the son says their childhood was great. At first you might think that perhaps the daughter has some sort of ax to grind or that the son is fabricating a fantasy childhood. But probably both accounts are true. I say this because Maynard's recollection is that Salinger treated Matthew like a prince and just about ignored Peggy. Isn't that the way of most families?
Though, of course, everybody in my family is just plain wonderful.