The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Dick Francis, R.I.P.

Today I mourn the loss of one of the all-time great British mystery writers, Dick Francis. Francis, a former jockey turned novelist, wrote dozens of absolutely wonderful mysteries over the years. All of his stories were, in some way, related to the horse racing world with which he was intimately familiar. He died this past Saturday at his home in the Cayman Islands. He was 89 years old.

Interestingly, I never "read" a single one of his novels, but I listened to ten or more. For several years back in the mid-90s, my trusty Dodge Neon and I made a daily 186-mile round-trip commute between my home on Cape Cod and Providence College where I worked. During those long drives I maintained my sanity by listening to books on tape. My dear wife, Diane, who worked in a local public library at the time, would bring me recordings of books she thought I would enjoy. Since she always liked Dick Francis' stories she assumed I would as well. She was correct. Perhaps now I will take the time actually to read those of his novels I never got around to listening to.

Click here to read more about this remarkable man: RIP, Dick Francis.

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