Spending much of my visit thus far assuaging the fears of our angelically behaved yet somewhat alarmed poodle, who gets disturbed when anyone leaves the room. Otherwise, leading a regular daughter-in-law life. So far I have not read one word of anything besides The Hampshire Gazette.

On today's docket: shopping at the strip mall.

I decided not to bring along Malcolm X and opted for Walt Whitman's America: A Cultural Biography instead. My younger son has lately gone Civil War crazy, so I've already been forcibly immersed in mid-19th-century America. (Would you like me to name you all the generals of the Army of the Potomac? . . . . Want to discuss some Chancellorsville tactical errors? . . . . ) Plus, let's not forget the Millbank essay lurking here on my desktop. At the moment Walt Whitman's America seems like the America for me. I'll get back to Malcolm X's America shortly.

Fish chowder tonight, or so I hear. And for tomorrow, crown roast of pork. Walt would be enthusiastic about both of these meals. Malcolm certainly would not be.