Art's island

I just spent some time this afternoon going through about eight years of email correspondence with my friend Art Harris, who died earlier this month.

The last thing I got from Art was an item he forwarded - we were always forwarding pithy political and humorous stuff back and forth - about Harry Truman, that Art sent six days before he died.

There were lots of emails about former Indianapolis News colleagues, many of them obituaries, and updates on staff cuts at The Indianapolis Star as it spiraled down into the journalistic abyss.

But the one that struck me the most was a response to a birthday greeting when he turned 72 in 2008. He apparently got my email after he returned from vacation on his beloved Sand Island in Lake Superior.

He wrote, "God, I wish I could stay on that Island forever - such peace and quiet, stars so bright, and only the sounds of wind in the pines."

I like to think he's back on his island.