HARVEST MOON
imon and Garfunkel are a guilty pleasure. I don’t know how the open-collared, satin-shirted duo came into my life. It’s possible I discovered them when I watched with Dustin Hoffman walking around looking gormless to a soundtrack of Garfunkel warbling his falsetto of such heart-rending sincerity it made his giant stack of curly hair wobble. Anyway, there they are: part of the playlist of my life, yet seldom admitted to. I mean, they are
