I saw an ad on TV heralding the coming previews of an animated version of the children's book, "Charlotte's Web." I was thrilled that yet another generation was bring introduced to Wilbur and Charlotte and Templeton (though I would hope the introduction would come first from the pleasure of reading the book versus the bells and whistles of current day animation). I recall clearly how I felt when I read this book for the very first time and how despondent I was when Charlotte died at the end of the story. This tale moved me profoundly.

That book was the catalyst that launched a love affair with the writings of E.B. White. Here was a man who exhibited sharp wit without causing offense to his subjects. Every topic he embraced, whether paeans to the nature surrounding his home in Maine or his fascination with Manhattan which he channeled into a series of charming essays, were sublime. He wrote with a simple, thoughtful tone, whether whimsical or wry. He gently took language and caressed it with care without employing the smoke and mirrors of excessive adjectives. His edict stated, "Omit needless words" and this he did well.

His New York essays (published in the 1940s in a slim volume called "This Is New York") predicted New York's vulnerability decades before the September 11th attacks. Expressing his fears for the world in the age of atomic war, he wrote: "The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger than a wedge of geese can quickly end this island fantasy, burn the towers, crumble the bridges, turn the underground passages into lethal chambers, cremate the millions. The intimation of mortality is part of New York in the sound of the jets overhead, in the black headlines of the latest edition." This passage was often quoted in the dark days after 9/11 (and 20 years after White's death).

E.B. White had the career I always wanted. He started as a junior writer for Harold Ross, madman, genius and founder of The New Yorker. In those heady days, when The New Yorker staff consisted of the dazzling members of the Algonquin Round Table (including Robert Benchley, James Thurber, George S. Kaufman, Dorothy Parker and Alexander Woolcott, among many others), the writing was witty and fresh. White composed essays and poems, sometimes the captions to the cartoons. He later moved on to children's stories, magazine articles, essays and poetry before co-authoring the quintessential editor's bible, "The Elements of Style." Brilliant.

If you have the opportunity, please read some of his work. No matter where you live or what you do or how you feel about the world or life or God, it will strike a chord in you. He has the ability to transcend the period of his sentiment and express the themes of our general cares.

As an appetizer, I leave you with one of my favorite poems of White's, The Spider's Web.

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.
And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.
Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.