JOHN UPDIKE DIES

John Updike died today. It took me by surprise (and I am not easy to surprise). John Updike? I never considered the fact that he might die. It's not that I thought Updike was immortal. I met him once, shook his hand, had a chat with him and he said good things about something I wrote), attended a party in his honor. It was a good party that lasted far longer than the host intended. He groused because it seemed the party would end early because the host had not provided enough beer and wine, So I know he was as mortal as the next guy. But years ago, just when I decided to read seriously, Updike had begun to write seriously. There he was, something serious on my reading landscape. And he has been there for me for more than 50 years, book after book, year after year. He wrote and I read. Of course, there came a time when he wrote things I didn't read, but he remained there for me, waiting to be read. I suppose it seemed that he would always be there simply because he has always been there. Updike. Death? Nah! Not until I catch up on my reading.