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By 6 a.m., I have already walked the dog, emptied the washing machine, and considered breakfast Carefully over a gallon or two of coffee. This is why old white men like me have no business whatsoever Writing memoirs. Emerson was all about self- reliance, but never scribbled a word about the laundry. Did Emerson do underwear? Who cares? Transcendence is transcendence, in the end, but nothing is universal Except the universe. How many humans know what the latest space probe found in the rings of Saturn, much less How long a piece of thread the Fates have trimmed to embroider a monogram on the pocket of my shirt? My shirt, buddy, One more vanity, one more possession with my initials on it that has to be cast in the washer, given over to that supreme Agitation, spun in the vortex, whipped, and cleansed.