So this morning I am talking to a friend in Hing Hay Park in the International District, next to a pagoda made in Shanghai. I'm in Hing Hay park. My friend is in Brooklyn. Somewhere in the ether between us communication occurs.
While I'm on the phone, a group of young people come up the street, with cymbals and drums. They stop at a flower shop, six of them dress up as dragons, and they set off firecrackers. I start to explain what must sound like gunfire and he breaks in "I understand. Happy New Year".
I think it is finally sinking in that I'm in a different century now.
No flying cars, though.
More later,
Jean Rabe
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Sorry to hear today of the death of Jean Rabe. Jean was head of the R. P.
G. A. when I first came on board at TSR (in October 1987 I think it was).
My ...
1 week ago

