. . . that I may be writing a lot about my dad--about both parents, actually.
I'm actually doing well. You don't need to worry or anything. But it gives me a lot of pleasure (and some comfort) to think about him and to write down tiny snatches of memory.
Last night Geoff asked me about a certain person. I thought things over and then I said, "Well, you know, he's a different cat."
Geoff laughed because that's what my dad would say sometimes. I've said this about the Coach before, but he was an interesting mix of salt-of-the-earth farm boy and cool rat packer. I can remember him leaning against the bleachers at one of my boy's games, wraparound sunglasses shielding his eyes, and saying about someone we both knew, "Yeah. That guy's a different cat."