The New Yorker: Plimpton’s Voice by His Son Taylor

Dad and son playing Wiffle ball

- By Taylor Plimpton -

My father’s voice was like one of those supposedly extinct deep-sea creatures that wash up on the shores of Argentina every now and then. It came from a different era, shouldn’t have still existed, but nevertheless, there it was—old New England, old New York, tinged with a hint of King’s College King’s English. You heard it and it could only be him.