Festival of Books
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Getting the hang of it — hang gliding, that is
Getting the hang of it — hang gliding, that is

With a pneumatic whoooooooosh, I leave Earth again, and I am not even propelled by the sort of happy hour rocket fuel with which I'm sometimes associated. In truth, I do not have many happy hours. I have happy minutes, happy moments. An entire hour? Only our parents had happy hours, long chunks of the evening devoted to happy juice. By comparison, I'm almost a nun. A manly nun, sure. And on this day, the flying nun. That's what this training glider looks like, that big cockeyed bonnet that Sally Field used to wear back in her "Flying Nun" days. That was good television, the story of a pert Catholic nun who could soar like an angel, the sort of escapist fare...