It rained torrents this weekend. The rivers swelled. Basements (not ours, thank god) flooded. Our backyard became a swimming pool, and the little grass seeds, so carefully planted by Steve last weekend, floated downstream to the Murray’s house. They’re always taking our stuff.

With the rain and the wind battering the house, it seemed like a good time to pick up Jane Eyre again. It took little imagination to transport me to the moors of England.

As I folded back the first page Friday night, heavily underlined with college notes on the margin (Jane = elf), a white van sped through Pennsylvania. The van was filled with half a dozen guys from Cleveland and equipped with a Sony Playstation to amuse them on their drive. Eric was getting married and needed a proper bachelor party in New York City.

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