Every married couple has their little areas of disagreement. Toothbrushes. Money. The poetry of Robert Frost.

I won a junior high essay contest by writing about “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” I like the poem. Diana, not so much. She thinks Frost is too sing-songy. We’ve worked through this over the years. Now I can handle the little smile that starts to twitch at the edges of her mouth when Frost comes up in conversation.

Much as we abhor the vandalism done by drunken students to Frost’s former home, given our history with the late poet it was the height of comedy to read that the people who trashed his place must take classes in his poetry as “punishment.”