One summer, when I was a boy, Uncle Zalo tried to teach me to shoot up at his ranch in the New Mexico high country. I was dismal, and I'm pretty sure the phrase "broad side of a barn" crossed his mind. It never crossed his lips, and he was never less than patient and encouraging but honest.
I had picked out new epic fantasy novels to bring him the next time I came to Santa Fe, and I wanted to talk with him about The Eternal Sky. I miss him.
Anything else I might have to say was already better said in his obituary.
Posted at June 12, 2015 23:59 | permanent link