It occurs to me that I've been very thoughtless. It seems obvious now that I should have dedicated my collection of Madame Jillinghoff's Bedroom Rhymes to the memory of my friend Linda, and yet I didn't think of it until this morning. Linda died of an aggressive form of cancer in 2007, and hardly a day goes by that I don't think of her. I had known her since college. She was sexually liberated in a way that sometimes made me feel stunted. She had tremendous insight into people and a frank, uninhibited way with language, and she loved to laugh. I like to think my little attempts at cleverness would have appealed to her.
So, Linda, these are for you.
Oh, and thanks to one of my readers for the verses sent in my honor. You know who you are.