Today is the 25th anniversary of John Lennon’s (the Beatle, not the chaplin) assassination and the eight anniversary of my car wreck in which I spun out on a left exit ramp, jumped an embankment, rolled down a hill back onto the interstate and was broadsided and stuck under a semi owned by the dubious Sam Walton, et al, suffered a traumatic brain injury and was unconscious in the hospital for three days. So sayeth the police report. My first words in the hospital and my first memory? Awaking while the nurse was shoving a potassium IV into my arm and I telling her that the chemical symbol for potassium was K, a fact which I only remember as it is an integral componet of the narrative. We shall be sure to toast this and the Sure Swift Hand at dinner tonight with Jon and Michael at the Cayene Cafe.