Daddy Takes a Spill

Hot gossip! I crashed my bike yesterday after work—Kina nowhere nearby, to be clear—and spent five hours in the ER getting my lip stitched and trying to account for my teeth. The publisher left me a sweet voice message on my phone after her (very recently terrified) mother assured her that she still had a father, and it left me feeling all sorts of complicated things about being a parent and a New Yorker and a bike commuter. She seems nonplussed by the whole affair, which has made it easier for me to work my way through this first day of recovery. As ever, she is a blessing and a beacon.

No broken bones, no concussion (as far as anyone can tell), a bit gnarly in the face in ways that will resolve themselves, and a little more gnarly in the teeth in ways that dentistry will help. I am still a father and the editor of this newspaper.

Remake streets for people. Watch your step. Wear a helmet.

dad