As of the time I’m typing this, it is officially August 1st.
To the magnificent lady who read to her young son every night until she was damn near hoarse–and did so every night without complaint…thank you. To the lady who insisted on using “big words” around her young son, despite having others tell her that she was going over that kid’s head with her explanations…thank you. For encouraging that kid to ask questions about stuff he didn’t understand…thank you. For bravely being both parents for long stretches of time…thank you.
To the lady who could once sing every lyric of every song in the Glenn Miller songbook and knew every line from “West Side Story” by heart and could still explain what “The Renaissance” was to her dumb kid…well, happy birthday seems inadequate, but here’s that wish, anyway.
Love you Mom. Wish this would find you, and find you in better health.