Roger Angell’s piece, so beautifully written, reminded me of one subtle difference between many Americans and even more southern Europeans, a difference which persists. Many of the latter cannot “let go.” By all means, it is a characteristic which slowly recedes. However, the “grieving” seems to go on for many years, occasionally for the span of one’s life. What is about so many Mediterraneans? Why, in every image, gesture or smell which triggers a memory of a loved one, now gone, that piercing sense pervades the spirit, leaving behind, every time, that heavy, dusty, painful sack of charcoal on the chest?I guess, there is plenty to learn from Americans about celebrating life. About the fine art of letting go.That Old Man | The Art of Letting Go | The New Yorker |