Writing Boots

Scout is thinking a lot about whether there’s a God or not.

Her Aunt Susy sez there is, and takes her to church sometimes.

Her mom sez there isn’t, and won't let Susy take Scout to Sunday school.

I say I don’t know, and add that nobody ("no, honey, not even the experts") actually knows and that it’s actually impossible to know for absolute certain.

“Yeah,” she says, with the air of a girl who's getting impatient with her dithering elders. “But I really want to know.”

My onetime colleague Peter Vogt is an employee communication exec at eBay. I haven't corresponded with him in a few months, so when I sent him an e-mail the other day I was happily surprised to get this message back:

I am privileged to work for a company that gives every single employee the opportunity to take a sabbatical after five years of service. I am delighted that I am able to do so now. I will be out of the office—away from email and mobile phone—from November 1, 2010 until January 5, 2011.

Because I anticipate an inordinate amount of emails during this time, I will be deleting all emails that come in during my sabbatical. HOWEVER, if this email needs my attention, please RE-SEND the email as urgent (with an exclamation point). I will be sure to read it on my return.

It's hard to imagine taking two full months completely off like that without going into outer space, or paying a doctor to put you in a medically induced coma.

Good for eBay, and good for you, Peter.

But be sure and get back to me on the fifth, you bastard.