(Continued from Part I)
About a year ago Marsha and I went together to a friend’s house concert. We were sitting cross-legged on floor pillows and drinking wine. “How’s the dress?” she asked at one of the set breaks. “It’s good,” I said. “I wore it a lot. It must be awfully tired by now.” We laughed. “Yah, it’s even older than we are,” she said. We agreed the poor dress might want to retire one of these days.