Toby Altman

“I could not say, exactly, what I learned from listening to Bishop, over and over again, as my father drove across the west in his green Suburban—a car he purchased from my mother’s ex-boyfriend, then refused to sell, reasoning it had done enough damage already to the earth and should be quietly retired from its consumption of fossil fuels. I did not learn anything particular or nameable—some specific aspect of the craft. I learned something more permanent than that.”