In Cooperstown, NY, yesterday, on some unrelated to the writing agenda when Denise spotted the glum James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851) sitting all stone-faced, seeming to ponder why everyone these days is more absorbed in talking no-hitters and stolen bases. His statue safeguards the grounds where his treasured Otsego Hall, the home his father built, once stood before it burned to the ground a few years after his passing. There was no parking so my charmer willingly hopped out to snap these photos while Ava and I looked on.
1 comment:
I would've taken a picture of him instead of my baseball heroes, too.
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