Here’s how this week’s arts and culture column begins:
The older I get, the more deeply I ponder the axiom that there’s a little bit of bad in the best of us, and a little bit of good in the worst of us.
That we can exercise incredible nobility of spirit in one area — and incredible sloth, or blindness, or pride, or ongoing compulsive behavior, in another — is an ongoing mystery.
I think of Bill W., the co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, whose lifelong addiction to nicotine led to the emphysema that killed him. Married for 53 years to the faithful Lois, a union that by all accounts bore abundant fruit, Bill nevertheless had a complicated emotional life that included deep relationships, at the very least emotional, with at least two other women.
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