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Since then it has been mid-July every day of the year. Dr. Lynn is now the head of a group health clinic, and the Rev. Robert has retired from his parish in order to devote himself to "staring at the walls of my houseboat." After all, he figures, "to ponder is to wonder at a deep level." Besides, out of all that woolgathering, book No. 3, Meatloaf in B Flat Major, will emerge next year. Even now, thoughts are surfacing like salmon in Lake Washington. "The grass," he notices, "is not, in fact, always greener on the other side of the fence. No, not at all. Fences have nothing to do with it. The grass is greenest where it is watered." Moral: "When crossing over fences, carry water with you and tend the grass wherever you may be." He recalls the Greek phrase he learned as a seminary student: asbestos gelos -- unquenchable laughter. "I traced it to Homer's Iliad, where it was used to describe the laughter of the gods." Moral: "He who laughs, lasts."
Fulghum's sons live in the neighborhood, and in order to stay in shape, two generations frequently go jogging in a nearby park. En route, readers hail the shaggy, benign figure, and he is often asked for advice. He rarely breaks step as he shouts his inarguable credo: "Life is so . . . unique! Trees, people, dogs, cats, comedy, love . . . don't miss it!" The springy, affirmative footsteps clatter like laughter as they echo down the path. The Rev. Feelgood is off in pursuit of another elusive truth.