Sometimes, life's sense of timing is just oh, so sweet. Remember how I told you that Sunday was the ninth anniversary of my dad's death? Well Monday morning, I got a phone call from one of the secretaries at my high school - a lady I've known for many years and who fondly remembers my father as a great colleague. She was calling to tell me some great news:
My high school is naming their brand new gymnasium after my dad.
I'm very excited about this news. My dad did so many great things for that school, and I'm so glad that they realize that and are honoring his memory in this way. The dedication will be happening at the spring pep rally at the end of May, and my mom, my sister, and I are all going down to SoCal for the ceremony.
My dad rocks on, even after death.
(Photo above is Dad and Seeser in the old gymnasium, about 20 years ago.)
The beautiful and wonderful Kara - the blogger formerly known as Cape Buffalo - has come up with a great new blog idea, and I jumped at the chance to help her out with it. Thank a Stranger is an opportunity for folks to publicly thank those people who've gone out of their way to make life a little easier, a little better, and/or a little more pleasant for a perfect stranger. I put a post up earlier today to thank a very kind flight attendant who helped me out on a particularly tough flight one night. Has someone done something for you lately that merits some public praise? Consider writing something to post at Thank a Stranger - email submissions to thanks and kindness at gmail dot com.
Last in a series of totally unrelated thoughts, some of you have been asking, "What ever happened with Boy X?" Well, let's just say I like him a lot. And let's also say that yes, he likes me a lot, too. We spend a fair amount of time together these days, and I'm very happy about that. However, it does mean that he'll start appearing here on occasion, and that means he needs a name.
Personally, I'd be fine with his continuing as Boy X, but he doesn't like that very much. He has requested that he be allowed to pick his own name, to which I at first consented. But then he decided he wanted to be Batman. Because - according to the story I've been told - he actually is Batman, and all those frogs that I always hear croaking in the ravine behind his house are actually the bats in his bat-cave that he's trained to say "Ribbit" to throw suspicious snoopers off his trail. I'll let you just sit and imagine the look on my face when he told me all this.