and each year it appears more true

[substitute]

I post this each year. It's E.B. White from 1952, writing in the New Yorker.

From this high midtown hall, undecked with boughs, unfortified with mistletoe, we send forth our tinselled greetings as of old, to friends, to readers, to strangers of many conditions in many places. Merry Christmas to uncertified accountants, to tellers who have made a

Comments

[besskeloid]

Hugs to all.