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At 10:30 the other morning a gardening foot-soldier (Gail) and I solemnly visited the garden patch and clipped the sad eggplant from its tough stem. There wasn’t a scream or a squeal or even a sigh. Later, taking a break from prep for the pending publication of ELEPHANT IN THE LIVING ROOM, a sharpened knife sliced, deft fingers salted, sautéed, sprinkled our small harvest with Italian grated cheese, and, in the blink of an eye, all was consumed.  There gustatory groans even though the taste was slightly bitter, the skin tough as it had probably been left too long on the vine.  Because Anna, ETS’s CEO, was lying on a beach in eastern Long Island instead, photos were taken and will soon follow.

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