Free Anything Can Happen by Roger Rosenblatt Page A

door, and the ashes from the volcano are floating like chicken feathers everywhere, and the mouth of the earthquake has swallowed up the silver and the books, and as soon as the tsunami arrives, there will be nothing left—no piano, no red vase from Italy, no antique Shaker shovel, no tennis trophy—not even a photo ID to tell you who you are.
    But this, I will remind you, is what you wanted—to be free of possessions, to reflect on the worthiness of life, to be as noble as the heart allows. And, ID or no, you know who you are.

The Grateful Living
    At last: A clean, clear image. The sunlight on a gull; the gull on a piling; the piling on a channel. The channel noses through to the open bay, and the bay to the sea. But I don't need to go there now. The gull is enough, plenty. I don't see why eternity has to go on forever. Here is my place in the world.
    Thank you. Thank you and you and you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
    I have two editors-in-chief. One, Ginny Rosenblatt, first saw my work forty years ago and felt that it needed so much editing, she married me. The other, Jane Isay, who doubles as editor-in-chief of Harcourt, while not going as far as Ginny, has joined the effort toward my improvement with great skill and gusto. I thank them heartily and wish them continued good luck.
    Thanks as well to Gloria Loomis, my agent of twenty-seven years, who keeps at it in spite of her better judgment and to Jane Freeman, my artist-transcriber, who translates my work from the original Sanskrit and who also makes so many helpful suggestions, I begin to resent them.
    An old high-school teacher of mine is cited in one of these essays. Jon Beck Shank was a poet, a great, good heart, and a gift to those lucky enough to learn from him. I'm forever grateful for his words of encouragement spoken so many long, winding years ago.
    Roger Rosenblatt