Rest in Peace, Mr. Jennings
I am a frequent if monotonous critic of American journalism; so, my sentimental reaction to Peter Jennings's death may catch a few of you off guard. But I loved the man. Yes, in recent years I've rolled my eyes at many of his turns of phrase, but I never, ever stopped watching. I grew up watching Peter Jennings, and ABC World News Tonight with Peter Jennings has been a nightly ritual in my house as far back as I can remember. Even when he made his, as it turned out, goodbye speech a few months ago and told the world he had the cancer, I always believed he'd be back. I can't believe I'll never watch Peter Jennings anchor another newscast. Jim Lehrer and his creepy eyes may appeal to my intellectual thirst for news, but it was Peter Jennings with whom I felt truly comfortable, and though I am loath to repeat such an inarticulate phrase, I just can't believe he's gone.

Thank you for a lovely half hour every night, sir, you will be greatly and genuinely missed.

Perchance to Dream
All the Holocaust movies I've been watching are starting to get to me. This morning, I had a dream in which I was a Jewish European during the Second World War. I think I was in one of the wartime ghettos, not one of the death camps, but you know how dreams are, details are always sketchy. Nothing really happened, but I felt a profound desire to be anywhere but where I was. Not a dream I wish to repeat.

The Power of $hazam!
I did something very odd on Wednesday. I bought Shazam! no. 1, a comic book from 1973. I own a few other random comics from the '70s, but they are all torn and tattered and were bought on a whim for $1 each. This book was in reasonably good shape and I paid significantly more than $1, approximately $19 in fact. I'm very disturbed with what this might mean. I am not now nor do I ever wish to be "a collector." (No offense, Neutral Man, but your obsessions frighten me.) I don't want to pay outrageous sums for rare comics or other flotsam. I don't want to painstakingly preserve my books for posterity. I buy comics to read the stories! I have been reading comics for five years and to this point, and Bog help me, forever more, I still do not bag and board my books. They just sit naked in their boxes, smushed together, each already being corroded by the oils from my hands when I, Heaven forbid, read the damn things. And I don't want that to change!

For all the inherent danger of becoming that lowest of creatures, the collector, I think Wednesday's purchase was okay. a) I really like Captain Marvel, the star of Shazam! b) Perhaps more importantly, I bought the book on a whim. I was staring at "Flint's #1 Wall of #1's" in Comic Relief waiting for the proprietor to hand me this week's pulls, when I saw it. Wow, Shazam! no. 1, Captain Marvel's first appearance in the DC Universe and first official publication since 1953. Neat. Then, like Homer Simpson when he realized he could afford Tom Landry's hat, I realized that if it wasn't too unreasonably priced, I might be able to afford it. So, I asked the friendly proprietor how much for that puppy in the window, found the deal to my liking, and engaged in a little of the old capitalism. And c) I think the fact that I even bothered to enumberate reasons a and b is a good sign that I'm still quite a ways from acquiring a climate-controlled safe and referring to its contents as my Precious.

Keep an eye on my, though, okay? Wilsons go crazy as they age; so, be vigilant.