The Pot Thief Who Studied Escoffier - Plot & Excerpts
Dry snow flakes floated through piñon scented air. The shops were gaily lit and full of holiday shoppers, some of them residents, most of them tourists taking a break from the skiing.No one on the street knew that Barry Stiles had died. Even the people at Schnitzel who knew it didn’t care. They had a restaurant to open.So why did it bother me? Did Barry Stiles care that his passing left no void? Do the dead have cares?I decided the last question was beyond my metaphysical powers, so I turned to one I might have a chance of answering. Why do we hope people will miss us and speak kindly of us when we’re gone? Why do we secretly want to play Tom Sawyer and listen to our own eulogy?The answer, I concluded, is that our concern about how we are remembered is not really about that. It’s just a surrogate for caring about how we are regarded in the here and now. We don’t want to be spoken of badly when we are dead because that means that now – while we are still alive – people don’t like us.I reached this profound conclusion just as I reached La Fonda.
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