The Ring. It's probably appropriate that one of the scarier movies lately is called "The Ring." And no, it's not about getting married.

This is the ring my dad gave my mom.

They were married 'till death parted them.

I asked Penny to marry me from the stage, but what I told her when we were away from the mic went something like this:

"You know my dad was the most important influence in my life. The best person I've ever known (and sadly, not everyone can say that about their dad). He had the greatest sense of integrity of anyone I've ever met and when he made a promise it was a guarantee. When my dad gave my mom this ring he told her he would love her and be there for her forever. And I'm making that same promise to you."

Today is the sixth anniversary of the passing of my dad. Naturally, this week brings out in me a little bit of introspection. I was riding the bus home at 3:00 in the morning, watching out the window as it continued to rain as it has been for hours, thinking that my dad used to be the guy driving this bus. I don’t mean that metaphorically. Pop used to drive the #22 Clark bus, sometimes overnight. He did overnights on Sheridan also, where, he told me once, he figured out that you have to drive exactly 28 miles per hour (and not have anyone wanting to get on or off) to catch every light.

I didn’t look at the driver (was I afraid I’d see a ghost?) but I wondered about generations…parent to child…and how much better off am I than my dad? When he was my age he’d had three sons, had lived in three countries on three continents and had to escape Nazis (at the age of 4) and Fascists (at the age of 34).

So at least I can say I win points for having a level of stability.
But I get annoyed when my shoes get wet. I have to give him points for toughness.

All this (and soooo much more that I won’t go in to) runs through my head and I think of the future…my future…our future (Penny and I), and I wonder if, no matter how hard I work, my son will be riding the bus home at three in the morning from a job he’s over-qualified for (no one cares about my masters degree on the 3:00 am bus) wondering if his dad would be proud of him or not.

In memorium.

10.24.05 

 

So the "save-the-dates" are finally in the mail. I never would have guessed that people needed to send out notices informing their friends that invitations are pending. It seems redundant...like a duvet cover. Do blankets really need blankets?

One of the cooler things Penny noticed is the number of places we sent invites to: Arizona, California, Oregon, Wisconsin, New York, Florida, Virginia, Alaska, New Mexico, Alabama, Michigan and of course Chicago. We also sent invites to Australia and England.

It's been said that you learn something new every day (I wonder how many things you forget every day), and today I learned that 50-cent stamps are not self-adhesive.

57 stamps.
57 envelopes.
No sponge.

Backstage at the United Center for U2, 9.21.05. This was our first engagement present, given to us by Rab and Rachel.