Darn this post


I was going to call this “Damn this post” but my wife pointed out that it was a bit of a non sequitur that I used “damn” in a post referencing Mr. Rogers on Friday.

My father would have been 86 today. He was born on this day in 1929. I’ve told the story before. We lost him when he was 49.  I was a junior in college.

It was way too soon.

I was twenty when he died. Now, I’ve almost (almost, mind you) been without him twice as long as I was with him. If you’ve lost a loved one, you know, the sting lessens, but you still miss them.

Every day.

I’ll be honest when I say that thirty-seven years later, I don’t always think about him every day. But I think somehow, I’ll always feel the loss.

But the things and people we lose in life, just like the things and people we gain, are what shape us into the people we become.

It’s Monday, and I have pledged to walk six miles this coming Saturday to raise money for the Massey Cancer Center. You can still sponsor me.

It’s also the Monday after I’ve closed another show. So, yes, that means that I’m currently working on only one show. And that one has been postponed for six weeks.

Not to worry, I have plenty to do. There are writing projects that aren’t being finished because I’m working on this post.

And yesterday, attending a production of “Soldier, Come Home” at the restored Beacon Theatre in Hopewell, I had a brainfa…er…a brainstorm regarding a new writing project. It’s a good one.

It’s officially Spring. I’m certainly not naive enough to think it won’t be cold again. But it won’t be cold again for as long. And hopefully we’ve seen the last of the snow.

Thanks for coming by to let me ramble today. It’s hard to write this post every year.

I’m reading some of the experts that tell you how to be a successful blogger. I guess if it works, you’ll be among the first to know.


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    • PW on March 23, 2015 at 10:36 am

    I know exactly how you feel today. I am now 6 years older than my mother was when she passed 28 years ago at the now-it-seems-so-young age of 53. I miss her wisdom, her strength, her unconditional love and understanding. There are not as many days now that I start to the phone to tell her something important as there were in the earlier years, but still, on occasion, my instinct to share hits me before I think.
    I am so grateful to have been given years to spend with parents who loved me before they even knew me.
    May you be blessed on this day of reflection as you remember treasured days past.

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