The Son&Heir texted me during a lunch break last week. He asked me for specifics on his birth date, time and birthplace. When I asked why, he replied with something about a “complex horoscope”. Here’s an extract from our ensuing conversation:
These are the days of our lives…
Over the past year or so I’ve become increasingly concerned about some of you, O My Readers, most especially among the most ahem senior of you (chronologically speaking).
The fact is that we’re starting to drop like flies, and as much as I hate to admit it, just having someone disappear from one’s life is unsettling. Here’s an example.
Bobby Kushner (Bob K) was an old Chicago buddy; one of my earliest Readers, many was the time we shared war stories and opinions on guns, politics, life in Chicago and such. We only ever met in person on three occasions, mind: once over dinner at a lovely restaurant on Clark Street, once when he very graciously put me up overnight at his apartment in Lincoln Park, and once at a friend’s farm (belonging to Scott S, then and still a friend as well as a Longtime Reader). On that last occasion, Bob brought a couple of very large duffel bags, both filled to the brim with old handguns — good grief, some models I’d never even heard of, let alone fired — along with a plentiful supply of ammo for each, and that entire day was spent shooting all of them.
Of course, we kept in touch over the following years, sporadically as so often happens, and then… silence. Emails went into the pit, and I never heard from him again. Bob was of advanced years and in poor health, but I only learned about that from his wife (confusingly, also Bobby — Roberta). So when he went dark, I had to assume that he’d popped his clogs — he’d always responded promptly to my “LTNS” letters in the past. Worse still, I didn’t know how to get in touch with his wife, so I never did find out.
So, to all my Old Fart Readers — and you know who you are — please drop me an email occasionally so I know how things are going. It’s not an obligation, of course, but having lost Bobby so suddenly and unknowingly, I really don’t want to experience that again. I do have a bond with you guys — sorry, but there it is — so please keep in touch now and again.
Grandson #2 just put in an appearance, over in Johannesburg. Everyone is doing fine.
Yes, I think a little single malt is called for.
…as the moneylenders say.
This is the last week of the annual “Stop GlobalMegaBankCorp From Throwing Kim Into Debtor’s Prison” fundraiser.
Give like it’s the last call before the Apocalypse*.
*Okay, I’m not quite sure what that means, either, but imagine that this poor girl needs clothing, and give accordingly.
I’m helping a good family friend move house today — from an apartment in Richardson (just outside Dallas) to somewhere the other side of nowhere — between Anna and Paris, TX as far as I can make out.
I didn’t even know there were people out there. Anyway, I have my passport if necessary.
Blogging may be a little light tomorrow, depending on how long the whole thing takes, but there ya go.
At least I’ll get to stop at Buc-ee’s on the way back for a pulled pork sammich…
