A Note to Readers, in Gratitude.

Paying attention to different kinds of time.

In Amsterdam this week. (Deborah Fallows.)

This is a brief note on my whereabouts right now. I realize that everyone gets so much email that no one is staring at the inbox waiting for more. But out of gratitude and respect to the people who are supporting this site, I wanted to say something about my situation at the moment, in mid-June.

These past days have been full of events I would normally be commenting on. Another strong speech by Joe Biden in Normandy. Another objectively alarming performance by Donald Trump on the campaign trail. Another round of “did you know that Joe Biden is old?” coverage in the press. Another round of good economic news and bad economic “feelings.” Another day of countdown to a planned debate, another set of evidence for comparing the values, competence, and knowledge of the two men.

And meanwhile: Another airliner running into frightening circumstances—this time, an Austrian Airlines plane whose nose cone, radar antenna, and cockpit windows were all battered by severe hail. And another day in which tens of thousands of commercial flights, including that one in Austria, all delivered their passengers safely to the ground. Another day on which a small-plane pilot came to grief. This time the news involved a former astronaut, Bill Anders, who had been a fighter pilot before he circled the moon on Apollo 8 and took the world-renowned “Earthrise” photo. Last week he died, at age 90, while attempting an aerobatic maneuver that most “regular” pilots of any age would consider beyond their skills. And meanwhile again, yet another open-ended crisis for the press. This time it was the self-immolation of Will Lewis, the new, checkered-background, imported Fleet Street boss of the storied Washington Post. And many more items—Industrial policy! China—and “lab leaks”! Great new books! Innovations in non-alcoholic craft beer!—are also on the list.

It has been another set of days, on these and other fronts.

And a set of days different from others, for Deb and me.

Last week we came to Amsterdam, so that we could spend this week-plus on a trip with the oldest of our six grandchildren, the wonderful 12-year-old Jack Fallows, of Dallas. Deb and I have decided to invent a family “tradition” of taking each of the grandchildren on a special adventure, minus the parents, as each of them turns 12 or so. Right now Jack is the pioneer and the guinea pig for how this “grand tour” tradition will work out.

With him we are exploring the canals, the museums, the parks, the hyper-busy bike lanes, the architecture, the food, the trains and trams, the mysteries of Dutch, and the other wonders of Amsterdam, where some relatives also happen to live. In between we are doing jigsaw puzzles together. We are playing cards. We are shopping for treats and surprises. We are talking about Jack’s observations and ideas.

The other news-filled days will return. Minutes, hours, and days like the ones we’re now living through go by fast. We are trying to make the most of them while they are here. As the saying goes about having young children: the days are long, the years are short.

Thank you so much for your attention and support, and I’ll be back in touch all too soon.