Last Summer on a warm, but not balmy, evening without wind, I was cycling along the stately Keizersgracht on my way to the 24hrs pharmacy on the Leidsestraat in order to buy aspirin. The Prinsengracht would have been a more direct route, of course, but the Keizersgracht attracts less tourists. I was enjoying the Sun, when I recalled a hotter Summer's day at Tufts, Medford, MA. It must have been 1995, or 1996.[+] The philosophy department had already moved to Miner Hall. I had come to work on a paper with George Smith, but first I went to see Dan Dennett, of course, on the ground floor. European friends have expressed regret to me that Dan sails, because they would otherwise insist he is Santa Claus (the beard, the jolly demeanor, his height, etc.).
To my surprise, Dan was visibly shaken. (I associate Dan with can-do-American-optimism-with-unbounded-faith-in-truth-and-technology.*) He had just learned about his heart condition--we had a brief conversation; I came away with a sense of the fragility of life, and I was touched he would allow me to see his anxiety. Later, after his procedure, he had regained his optimistic, ebullient self, and he excitedly shared with me insights on all the marvelous technology used during the procedure. While paying attention to traffic, I wondered if I seemed frazzled.
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