The Night I Met Christopher Hitchens

Christopher Hitchens. Photo by the Author

I was at a hotel seminar led by former marine generals. The meeting was about turning a company around. I was one of the employees of the company that needed to be prepared to make a speech, but I was not called on to do so. The seminar was held in one of the large hotel conference rooms. Ballroom A? And there were about 100 people attending.

After the seminar was over, I was heading back to my room when I was approached by a short, plain, middle-aged woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to Madelaine Albright.

She came up to me and I looked down at her upcast eyes which seemed to be imploring me to do something. She begged me to come back to her room with her.

“I’m so all alone,” she said. It seemed as if we already knew each other and had had an affair in the past.

At the same time Madeleine and I were talking, I was approached by another individual who turned out to be Christopher Hitchens. He gave me a bear hug.

“I lost a dear friend last night old boy,” he said.

“Died?” I asked.

“No, he passed out with drink,” Christopher smiled.

“Where are you going now?” I asked his receding figure.

“I am going to the bar for a double scotch, old boy.”

“OK, I’ll meet you there later.”

“I hope you have more to say than you did at the meeting earlier tonight.” Then he was gone.

I looked back at Madeleine and told her I was very sorry, but I couldn’t be with her tonight. That I had to talk to Christopher.

Just then the dog barked, and I woke up.

Gideon the Dog. Photo by the Author

My Books are Never so Happy as When they are all Together


I have moved recently and whenever I move I am always fretting over how much stuff I have. Not the least of which is a rather large collection of books. My library as it were. I have been hauling this collection of books around the country with me for some 50 years. Every time I make a move I try to winnow it down to a core number, but giving away books is a little like giving away children. It is an agony.

I discovered Christopher Hitchens


had a similar problem as he described in his essay, Prisoner of Shelves: “I try to cull them out but the closer I get to the center the harder it is to cull. I can’t throw out a book that has been with me for years and is like an old friend. Or a book that has been written by an acquaintance or who knows when I will need a reference to a subject however obscure. I never lend my books, I am compulsive about not letting them out of my sight.”

I feel the same way. In fact I composed this little ditty to describe my feelings:

Neither a lender nor a borrower be
For borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry
With this in mind then, if you still want to borrow
I’ll expect the book back by tomorrow.


When I moved from Trenton to Louisville three years ago I gave away literally 20 cases of books and downsized five bookcases. It gets harder each time. I just moved from a three bedroom house to a two bedroom apartment and once again find myself downsizing. At least now they are all together and they couldn’t be happier.


The Lesser Evil


I just read a review of The Lesser Evil: Diaries 1945-1959, by Victor Klemperer. The review first appeared in the Atlantic in December 2004 and was written by Christopher Hitchens. The review I read appeared in Hitches’ book of collected essays published in 2011 entitled, Arguably. The Lesser of Two Evils follows Klemperer’s two volume magnum opus, I Will Bear Witness.

Victor Klemperer, a German Jew who converted to Protestantism, kept a diary throughout the Nazi era. He was a professor and taught literature at Dresden Technical University. He thought by converting to Protestantism he would escape the racial persecution perpetuated by the Third Reich. He was wrong. In his diary Klemperer provides an account of day-to-day life under the tyranny of the Third Reich. He and his wife Eva barely escaped being transported to a concentration camp to endure the final solution when allied bombers appeared overhead and completely destroyed Dresden. Klemperer and his wife also narrowly escaped immolation in the flames that consumed the German city by the firebombing conducted by allied forces. After the war he chose to stay in East Germany.

Klemperer’s diary chronicles the daily life of restricted Jews during the Nazi terror. He chronicles in minute details the regulation by the Nazi’s of all aspects of everyday life including many petty humiliations such as being first restricted to riding at the back of the bus and then to not being allowed to ride the bus at all. These small humiliations reminded me of what Hannah Arendt described as the “banality of evil.”

One particular petty humiliation struck me as especially cruel. German Jews were not allowed to keep pets. Only those of the pure Aryan stock were thought to suitable for such a privilege. Jews were ordered to turn in their pets to be euthanized or to kill them themselves.

Klemperer and his wife had a tomcat they adored named Muschel. He describes in painful details in his diary the final acts of preparing and delivering the beloved cat to be euthanized. His wife Eva gave Muschel a special veal treat as a kind of last supper which came from their own food ration. This story is just heartbreaking and illustrates the pettiness and the banality with which the Nazis would stoop even in the middle of wartime to perpetuate their madness. The euthanasia of pets cannot be far removed from the depravity of the wholesale slaughter of human beings by gassing them to death in the gas chambers in German concentration camps.

Living in East Germany after the War Klemperer continued to keep his diary. This resulted in the book released for publication in 2004 called, The Lesser Evil: Diaries 1945-1959.