I don't know of any grief that can be flung at a man greater than a layoff. You can enter a job (and leave it, too, as Clark Kerr said 20 years ago) "fired with enthusiasm," but you will always be surprised by the indignity of being severed for no other reason than economic. What could be more natural than losing a job over your employer's money problems? And yet, for a young man at least, the last of your problems is the money. You can do even better elsewhere.

I woke up crying this morning from the memory of my October 1980 surprise. Actually, I only dreamed that I was crying; there were no tears upon awakening. It was a doozy of a dream, filled as usual with surrogates for the journalistic types I had rubbed shoulders with. This time, though, there was one character from real life, and I hope that naming the late Guy Richardson at this point will not seem fatuous. He wasn't wearing suspenders, but otherwise it was Guy.

And at this point in my posting, my four-year-old has woken up and shown up looking for me. I could keep writing with a dozing child in my lap, but my life has changed in the last 29 years and the point must be made by my stopping here.