I hope Rebecca Traister will be pleased to know that her father is not the only one to read Trillin out loud to his family; I've been doing it for twenty five years. The Tummy Trilogy is a cultural landmark in our family; I once smashed the speed limit the whole way across Missouri to get to Arthur Bryant's before closing time. We had brunch on our silver wedding anniversary at Shopsin's. And we were fortunate enough to meet Bud Trillin (if you see him in person, it's pretty much impossible to call him anything else) at a book signing. He is very huggable in person, but you can see the wistfulness when he talks about Alice.

I haven't read the New Yorker article and I'm a little scared to do so, because I was crying hard enough at Traister's article.

I read this article, and was so amazed I sat down and read it a second time. I actually plan to read it again - like an actual plan, a schedule, cause it's that good.

You know lately (or maybe always) it's seemed that the letters section here has been filled with invective about how lame the articles are, about how the readers "don't need this from Salon." I won't pretend that they never have a point or, even, that I haven't chimed in. But I do want to take the opportunity to say that this is what I want in Salon. This is what I pay for. Intelligent and reflective stories that are informed by literature and recognize the complex and meaningful role media plays in life. I usually say that I read Salon for articles about books and the literary world, but I can see that's not quite it. I read it to be in and around the work and opinions of others for who reading is a constant presence, people like me who secretly want their lives to have the cadences and dramatic movement of literature.

Trillin's essay is a clever seduction, calling forth the real shock and awe in life: the mysterious power of the beloved to breathe life into us, even in her absence. That he evokes such intimacy with someone I've never met, speaks beautifully of his own love (reverence, glee) as well as her enthusiasm for him.

Trillin has been a lucky, lucky guy.

I'm an attorney, married to a professor and writer and often help him edit his work- I'm also the mother of three daughters. At the moment, working on a big legal brief, I'm always seeking escape from the task at hand. Yesterday I read the

Alice piece and was- as you were- totally bowled over. It's lovely, and makes one wish- or at least, this one- that I was the kind of person "Alice" seems to have been. I'm not aware of having read some of "Calvin's" work, but maybe I will now. Again- It is an absolutely smashing piece. Tania Sundquist, LA

I ended my day yesterday by reading Calvin's New Yorker article. It was my first encounter with Calvin and Alice, and I found the experience moving and invigorating. It was a pleasant surprise to wake up this morning to find that Rebecca Traister had eloquently summed up my reaction to the article.

I agree with an earlier post--this is why I subscribe to Salon.

She may have been sensible (but not all the way to her toes) but she did contribute the Alice Trillin Law of Compensatory Cash Flow. I cannot get the quote exactly right but it was sort of like this.

Any luxery that you consider purchasing but then forgo releases a windfall cash flow that must be spent immediately or it will disappear.

I'm huge fan of Calvin and similarly fell in love with Alice, however, I didn't know about the New Yorker piece. I can't wait to read it.

Thanks for a great story.

Thanks so much for the tip, and for the reference to the Law of Compensatory Cash Flow, which has been in full operation in my life ever since I first read "Alice, Let's Eat", way back when. Of course, there is historical precedent for the LCCF, as anyone who has read "Life with Father" and recalls the pug dog incident can attest.

I just read this NYer article last night, and I was so moved that I really wanted to share the experience with someone. Finding Rebecca's thoughtful, moving article today was just what the doctor ordered. Thanks for putting into words what was going through my head yesterday ... both your article and Calvin's piece in the New Yorker are examples of wonderful prose.

Yes, yes, yes, to everything you folks have already written, except that the person who introduced me to Trillin's writing--the Tummy Trilogy and the Nation columns about "the wily and parsimonious Victor Navasky"--was not my dad but my boss at my first real job out of college, and "write Bill W to thank him for Trillin" is on my new to-do list. I remember feeling gut-punched when I read Alice's obituary in the Times, one more awful bit of news in that awful month, and wanting to send a sympathy card but not wanting to intrude . . . And I remember tearing up when I read that dedication to "Tepper Isn't Going Out," which Trillin quotes in this New Yorker piece: "I wrote this one for Alice. Actually, I wrote everything for Alice." So lucky in love, those two, both of them, and so gifted, and so generous with their gifts, even in grief. The only way I could possibly repay Trillin for all the joy his writing has given me over the years is to take him to B's Barbecue outside Greenville, North Carolina. It's no "Maison De La Casa House"--it's just his kind of place. And y'all are welcome to come along if you're in this neck of the woods. --Christi

I read Trillin's article earlier this week, and was pleased to see that Salon was recommending it to everyone as well. I am not familiar with Calvin or Alice, but I was brought to tears as I was reading it on the subway. I've advised all of my friends to read it, too.