Contrary to the Rumor…

I did not turn into a pigeon. Well, okay, I did. But only for an hour or two. Everybody was doing it last week.

And no, I’m not posting today simply because I’m afraid of Cake. Well, okay. Maybe a little.

The truth is that I haven’t blogged for about a week for several reasons. One is that I’ve been working on a big feature, with loads of interviews to do, transcribe and sort through. But such is the burden of an ace reporter.

Another is that I haven’t been feeling well. I think I’ve got the bronchitis again, coupled with a sinus infection. Or the scurvy. Yeah, probably the scurvy.

But the main reason is that I just haven’t felt like it. Today was the 18th anniversary of the death of my father, and I tend to get melancholy around this time of year. And grumpy and moody—just ask the understanding and long suffering husband, God bless ‘em.

Anyway, I had set my mind to doing something to honor the memory of my Dad. I wracked my feeble brain trying to come up with something appropriate, and then realized that all he’d want me to do is simply get through the day without breaking down into a nervous wreck, like I have so many times before.

So I honored him in little ways. I had a nice steak dinner tonight, because my dad loved a good steak. He was a meat and potatoes kind of guy. And I walked into IANO’s shop with a construction paper Hitler mustache taped under my nose, because it’s the kind of gag my Dad would have appreciated.

(And no, he wasn’t a Hitler fan. My Dad was a vet of WWII. He was drafted—he certainly wasn’t there by choice. Part of his service was spent stationed at a POW camp. While there, he actually got to know some of the POWs, who turned out to be nice, decent guys who didn’t want to be in a war there any more than my dad did—and certainly didn’t believe in Adolf’s cause. Once a week, my Dad and his buddies would dress a few of the prisoners up in U.S. Army uniforms and sneak them out to the movies, just to give them a break. My Dad’s favorite show, BTW, was “Hogan’s Heroes.” Go figure.)

I also spent a lot of time this afternoon running around outside in the sunshine, playing with my sons and their classmates, because that’s the kind of thing my Dad loved to do. He adored kids, and it breaks my heart that his grandsons will never get to know their Grandpa Ross, at least not in this plane of existence.

The regular nonsense blogging will resume shortly. Right now, I’m gonna go hug my kids and read them a bedtime story. Good night.