unopened. When her son stands in the night outside her house, she goes to bed early. In the morning, she looks at his photograph, writes adoring letters to a long-defunct address. A spinster sees the face of the young man who loved her in the mirror of her bedroom, on the ceiling of the bakery, on the surface of the lake, in the sky. The

The preacher said, “She looks tar’d.’’ “Women’s always tar’d,’’ said Tom. “That’s just the way women is, ’cept at meetin’ once an’ again.

If quantitatively the American achievement is impressive, qualitatively it is somewhat less satisfying.

His music was direct from his heart and brain in the purest form possible.

Written By Joshua Logan

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