When we finished talking the other day I couldn’t help but feel I left you hanging. You’ve been my friend for many, many years and even though I couldn’t completely explain what it all means, I felt as though I just gave you some pat, standard answers. I apologize for that.
But it’s a tough question, “what’s the meaning of life?” Read More
Food arrives at our place on an almost routine basis these days. Organized by the amazing Carol Pochodylo, a chuck wagon rolls up to our house several times a week in the form of our kids’ friends’ parents, (if I’m allowed to use double apostrophes). The meals have been luscious and much appreciated. And wow, the stories that’ve arrived steaming hot have also been delicious.
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On September 11th, after both twin towers were hit, I called my buddy Peter to find out what was happening. Peter lived in lower Manhattan at the time and my little paper in Midland was like every other news organization trying to make sense of the madness. Peter’s partner Masood got on the line and gave us some good, solid quotes about what he was witnessing.
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Friday afternoon was mellow. Doctor was pleased I was flatlined with all my blood numbers barely able to raise their hands for roll call. A hospital cheeseburger with fries was on the way.
And then suddenly I’m Nigel, an aging British rocker in rehab.
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They burst into my room on stars, trailing unseen comets, the three-person team from Eternity Network News. Moments earlier I was simply conversing with the great Unknown, explaining why I knew death wasn’t near. Our conversation had been delightful and I think I impressed the Unknown. But then these yahoos showed up.
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An oldie photo, but a goodie photo from five years ago.
Chapter 1: The L-Word
Chapter 2: Having Fun With Cancer
Chapter 4 (today’s post):Departure Terminal
The parking lot’s mostly empty at our departure terminal, but the sun still hasn’t risen and activity is on hold for now. Most of the shift workers have completed their important duties and are just in monitoring mode, flipping through some magazines, making final notes in their endless computer ledgers, waiting.
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