It was a beautiful day. Nearly 70°. This is the end of that sort of thing, of course. It’s like when your girlfriend dresses up real pretty and wears her most expensive perfume so she can tell you it’s over; she’s met a Belgian graduate student who truly understands her needs. Not that that’s ever happened to me. I never did that well with a girl.

It occurs to me that I haven’t mentioned the New York C. S. Lewis Society here yet. No, that’s not true. I’ve mentioned it, but I don’t think I’ve linked to its site. So here’s the link. You don’t have to reside in Manhattan or its environs to be a member—me, I’ve been on the rolls since the early ’70s, and I’ve never been to a meeting. But they publish a monthly newsletter that’s very professionally done and well worth reading, if you’re the kind of person who wants to know just everything about Lewis. Which I am.

Our frequent commenter Dale Nelson is a regular writer for the journal, specializing in pieces about the books Lewis read and their possible influences on his work.

Consider this my unsolicited endorsement.