When I think about James, it is not of recent years. It is of us as children. The one activity which we seemed "always" to be doing was putting on plays. Actually, more often than not, we simply planned to put on plays, without actually putting them on. This was back in the days of the Mac Plus, so much time was devoted to coming up with a "professional" looking poster for the play. For the most part, this meant deciding between the gothic looking font (which seemed to be the most popular choice), and the small handful of others, as well as choosing just the right combination of bold, italic, underline, and outline. Then of course there was the question of whether to use 60 or 72 pt font. As far as I can recall, the first step, even before the poster was to choose the characters. I believe these were often superheroes. This brainstorming would go on in the basement or out on the swings. Next came the poster, then I suppose details of the play, if we even made it that far. The other somewhat related activity was playing with the wooden blocks. Sometimes we would make mazes - where each individual block had a secret movement that it could perform. But another favorite was designing stages for plays. These too would have moving parts, and usually an elaborate system of tunnels and byways underneath and behind the stage.

Test test

James laughing with his whole body, sort of half trying to contain it and half bursting out at the seams....

We all know how James had a way with words, especially when writing dry humor. I found this email he sent in September 2002 and thought it was a great example... I also have an amusing (or at least interesting) story I thought I would pass along, which requires some background to understand it fully. In my previous apartment building, the landlady lived in the apartment below mine. A few months before I moved in, she had apparently engaged the services of a babysitter for her three small children; this babysitter, and her boyfriend, were evidently quite unstable, and proceeded to hold my landlady captive in her apartment and (as far as I can gather) torture her. This all happened before I lived there, but my roommates lived there at the time, and, strangely, didn't hear or see anything out of the ordinary; neither did the couple who lived in the third floor apartment. This, of course, is quite the hideous story, but luckily neither my landlady or her kids were seriously injured, and the babysitter had been found and arrested. However, months later, just before I moved out, a pair of private investigators showed up at the apartment; these 'private eyes' (if I may use the term) had been hired by the babysitter (the defendant), and apparently were trying to gather information for a character assasination of my landlady. I was somewhat disappointed to discover that these 'private eyes' were not wearing suits or fedoras, were not smoking cigars, and did not have flasks of whiskey concealed about their person, as far as I could tell; also, they arrived early on the morning of a very sunny day, so the whole 'film noir' atmosphere was somewhat incomplete. Anyway, I didn't feel I could offer them any insight on the situation, as I wasn't living in the building when the whole thing took place; they left, and I assumed the whole thing was over. However, a few days later, I received a summons to appear in court as a witness for the defense. I was under the impression that that sort of thing had to be hand-delivered, and couldn't be mailed; apparently not, however. I think the whole thing is slightly ridiculous, as I'm actually not a witness at all, but, not wishing to become entangled in the legal system any more than I already am, I suppose I will show up in court. The court date isn't for another couple months, but I shall be VERY interested to see how it goes. In closing, I will say that I don't really understand how I could suddenly become mixed up in something like this, that I don't really have anything to do with. I just seem to be the sort of person who will always lead a very interesting life, despite all my efforts to the contrary. Love, James

This is a memory.

We all know how James had a way with words, especially when writing dry humor. I found this email he sent in September 2002 and thought it was a great example... I also have an amusing (or at least interesting) story I thought I would pass along, which requires some background to understand it fully. In my previous apartment building, the landlady lived in the apartment below mine. A few months before I moved in, she had apparently engaged the services of a babysitter for her three small children; this babysitter, and her boyfriend, were evidently quite unstable, and proceeded to hold my landlady captive in her apartment and (as far as I can gather) torture her. This all happened before I lived there, but my roommates lived there at the time, and, strangely, didn't hear or see anything out of the ordinary; neither did the couple who lived in the third floor apartment. This, of course, is quite the hideous story, but luckily neither my landlady or her kids were seriously injured, and the babysitter had been found and arrested. However, months later, just before I moved out, a pair of private investigators showed up at the apartment; these 'private eyes' (if I may use the term) had been hired by the babysitter (the defendant), and apparently were trying to gather information for a character assasination of my landlady. I was somewhat disappointed to discover that these 'private eyes' were not wearing suits or fedoras, were not smoking cigars, and did not have flasks of whiskey concealed about their person, as far as I could tell; also, they arrived early on the morning of a very sunny day, so the whole 'film noir' atmosphere was somewhat incomplete. Anyway, I didn't feel I could offer them any insight on the situation, as I wasn't living in the building when the whole thing took place; they left, and I assumed the whole thing was over. However, a few days later, I received a summons to appear in court as a witness for the defense. I was under the impression that that sort of thing had to be hand-delivered, and couldn't be mailed; apparently not, however. I think the whole thing is slightly ridiculous, as I'm actually not a witness at all, but, not wishing to become entangled in the legal system any more than I already am, I suppose I will show up in court. The court date isn't for another couple months, but I shall be VERY interested to see how it goes. In closing, I will say that I don't really understand how I could suddenly become mixed up in something like this, that I don't really have anything to do with. I just seem to be the sort of person who will always lead a very interesting life, despite all my efforts to the contrary. Love, James

When I think about James, it is not of recent years. It is of us as children. The one activity which we seemed "always" to be doing was putting on plays. Actually, more often than not, we simply planned to put on plays, without actually putting them on. This was back in the days of the Mac Plus, so much time was devoted to coming up with a "professional" looking poster for the play. For the most part, this meant deciding between the gothic looking font (which seemed to be the most popular choice), and the small handful of others, as well as choosing just the right combination of bold, italic, underline, and outline. Then of course there was the question of whether to use 60 or 72 pt font. As far as I can recall, the first step, even before the poster was to choose the characters. I believe these were often superheroes. This brainstorming would go on in the basement or out on the swings. Next came the poster, then I suppose details of the play, if we even made it that far. The other somewhat related activity was playing with the wooden blocks. Sometimes we would make mazes - where each individual block had a secret movement that it could perform. But another favorite was designing stages for plays. These too would have moving parts, and usually an elaborate system of tunnels and byways underneath and behind the stage.

test

We all know how James had a way with words, especially when writing dry humor. I found this email he sent in September 2002 and thought it was a great example... I also have an amusing (or at least interesting) story I thought I would pass along, which requires some background to understand it fully. In my previous apartment building, the landlady lived in the apartment below mine. A few months before I moved in, she had apparently engaged the services of a babysitter for her three small children; this babysitter, and her boyfriend, were evidently quite unstable, and proceeded to hold my landlady captive in her apartment and (as far as I can gather) torture her. This all happened before I lived there, but my roommates lived there at the time, and, strangely, didn't hear or see anything out of the ordinary; neither did the couple who lived in the third floor apartment. This, of course, is quite the hideous story, but luckily neither my landlady or her kids were seriously injured, and the babysitter had been found and arrested. However, months later, just before I moved out, a pair of private investigators showed up at the apartment; these 'private eyes' (if I may use the term) had been hired by the babysitter (the defendant), and apparently were trying to gather information for a character assasination of my landlady. I was somewhat disappointed to discover that these 'private eyes' were not wearing suits or fedoras, were not smoking cigars, and did not have flasks of whiskey concealed about their person, as far as I could tell; also, they arrived early on the morning of a very sunny day, so the whole 'film noir' atmosphere was somewhat incomplete. Anyway, I didn't feel I could offer them any insight on the situation, as I wasn't living in the building when the whole thing took place; they left, and I assumed the whole thing was over. However, a few days later, I received a summons to appear in court as a witness for the defense. I was under the impression that that sort of thing had to be hand-delivered, and couldn't be mailed; apparently not, however. I think the whole thing is slightly ridiculous, as I'm actually not a witness at all, but, not wishing to become entangled in the legal system any more than I already am, I suppose I will show up in court. The court date isn't for another couple months, but I shall be VERY interested to see how it goes. In closing, I will say that I don't really understand how I could suddenly become mixed up in something like this, that I don't really have anything to do with. I just seem to be the sort of person who will always lead a very interesting life, despite all my efforts to the contrary. Love, James

We all know how James had a way with words, especially when writing dry humor. I found this email he sent in September 2002 and thought it was a great example... Hello all. I just moved, and therefore have a new address and phone number; it is as follows: James Harrah 8 Gartland Street #1 Jamaica Plain MA 02130 617.522.6824 I also have an amusing (or at least interesting) story I thought I would pass along, which requires some background to understand it fully. In my previous apartment building, the landlady lived in the apartment below mine. A few months before I moved in, she had apparently engaged the services of a babysitter for her three small children; this babysitter, and her boyfriend, were evidently quite unstable, and proceeded to hold my landlady captive in her apartment and (as far as I can gather) torture her. This all happened before I lived there, but my roommates lived there at the time, and, strangely, didn't hear or see anything out of the ordinary; neither did the couple who lived in the third floor apartment. This, of course, is quite the hideous story, but luckily neither my landlady or her kids were seriously injured, and the babysitter had been found and arrested. However, months later, just before I moved out, a pair of private investigators showed up at the apartment; these 'private eyes' (if I may use the term) had been hired by the babysitter (the defendant), and apparently were trying to gather information for a character assasination of my landlady. I was somewhat disappointed to discover that these 'private eyes' were not wearing suits or fedoras, were not smoking cigars, and did not have flasks of whiskey concealed about their person, as far as I could tell; also, they arrived early on the morning of a very sunny day, so the whole 'film noir' atmosphere was somewhat incomplete. Anyway, I didn't feel I could offer them any insight on the situation, as I wasn't living in the building when the whole thing took place; they left, and I assumed the whole thing was over. However, a few days later, I received a summons to appear in court as a witness for the defense. I was under the impression that that sort of thing had to be hand-delivered, and couldn't be mailed; apparently not, however. I think the whole thing is slightly ridiculous, as I'm actually not a witness at all, but, not wishing to become entangled in the legal system any more than I already am, I suppose I will show up in court. The court date isn't for another couple months, but I shall be VERY interested to see how it goes. In closing, I will say that I don't really understand how I could suddenly become mixed up in something like this, that I don't really have anything to do with. I just seem to be the sort of person who will always lead a very interesting life, despite all my efforts to the contrary. Love, James

When I think about James, it is not of recent years. It is of us as children. The one activity which we seemed "always" to be doing was putting on plays. Actually, more often than not, we simply planned to put on plays, without actually putting them on. This was back in the days of the Mac Plus, so much time was devoted to coming up with a "professional" looking poster for the play. For the most part, this meant deciding between the gothic looking font (which seemed to be the most popular choice), and the small handful of others, as well as choosing just the right combination of bold, italic, underline, and outline. Then of course there was the question of whether to use 60 or 72 pt font. As far as I can recall, the first step, even before the poster was to choose the characters. I believe these were often superheroes. This brainstorming would go on in the basement or out on the swings. Next came the poster, then I suppose details of the play, if we even made it that far. The other somewhat related activity was playing with the wooden blocks. Sometimes we would make mazes - where each individual block had a secret movement that it could perform. But another favorite was designing stages for plays. These too would have moving parts, and usually an elaborate system of tunnels and byways underneath and behind the stage.