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Hello one and all from dank New York, home of traffic congestion,
rude hot dog vendors, and unidentifiable odor.  If there's anything
that makes me miss the flying wedge of various daughters, grand-
daughters, random sons, sons-in-law, conversational companions
and aqueous significant others I've managed to accumulate in my
time at Taervac's, it's leaving it to listen to boring people in
stuffy halls discussing irrelevant subjects and drinking themselves
into submission by the committee-full.

Which is to say I'm at a conference at SUNY.  Last year it was
in Cambridge, which at least had the advantage of being pleasant
to walk through.

So, in inestimable Burns style, and with the grand tradition of
our noble Sept, I've cheated.  I presented my paper and haven't
been back.  New York City is wonderous strange, when you're not
paying for a thing and you've nothing but time to wander.  I've
just seen Cozzi von Tutti at the Metropolitan Opera, and I'm 
writing this in the Opera Cafe, right off Lincoln Center, eating
a rather good bagel and sipping a rather bad cup of tea.  By now
I should know better.

I miss you all terribly.  I didn't get an opportunity to speak with
any of you following the wedding.  Well, I've always expressed
myself better in print anyhow.

First, to Chris -- I don't know you half as well as I'd like.  I
have little sage advice for you, as a result, save this.  I have
never known a man to inspire one of Lori's former station to the 
heights she has gone.  I have never seen such love in her eyes for
any man.  Which means to you that you are a very rare and special
man, worth all that Lori has given to you.  And therefore worthy
of any respect I can show you.

Dustin -- you I *have* gotten to know, somewhat.  Not to embarrass
my only born child (as compared to all the other varieties I've
managed to accumulate), but I've often wondered if she could find
a soul-mate capable of keeping her.

Which means I've underestimated her.  You don't keep her.  You
celebrate and inspire her freedom -- the essence of who and what
she is.  And for that, I thank you, my Son.

Lori -- you have been given so much.  The soul granted you by your
esteemed parents.  The love Chris so obviously feels for you.
The affection of Ariel and myself.  The Cameradire of Taervac's 
regulars... so many gifts for one woman.  But astoundingly, you
have transformed them alchemically into something wonderous and
strange... you have taken such bounty, and returned it tenfold.
I miss your innocent wisdom, and look forward to your return.

Ariel.

I haven't the words.  Child of the air.  Spirit of freedom.
Daughter.  I love you, Ariel.  Bless you and your husband.

Well, that's enough prattle from an old man in New York.  I'm
thinking of taking a walk along the park, up to Zabar's and then
over to Shakespeare and Company.  And tonight, we will see what
the city holds, and how it compares to the Water Spirit I'd
rather be with, or my family abroad.

Until our paths cross,

Dad

This postcard was sent to you by E. A. Burns, Ph.D. (sabre@awenet.com ).
It will be available for your perusal until Nov 18, 1996.