It’s a little vague. I was tempted to call this section “life” or “reflections,” or something equally as dopey.
For now, we’ll stick with “other.”
I’m thinking it will consist of short auto-biographical sketches — you know, warm-ups for my memoirs.
For instance, the word “dopey” reminds me of the time my grandfather and I went to a store in Flint to buy a camera. It was the mid-1960s. I was 15 or 16. Grandpa asked the girl behind the counter, “Do you have any dope on this one?”
“What?” she said.
“Any dope,” he said. “Do you have any dope?”
She was about to yell for the store manager or maybe the cops, so I said, “He means any information about the camera.”
Grandpa was five years younger at the time than I am now, but people aged faster back then. At least, I like to tell myself that.
The story wouldn’t make it into my memoirs; it’s a little slight even for a short auto-biographical sketch, but it gives you a sense of what I’m talking about when I say, “other.”
