Wednesday, September 26, 2007
The boys just walked me through the film aisles and tried to fill me in on their progress with our never ending inventory process and I realized on yet another level how much I already miss and will continue to miss my dad. What a fraud I am and how ill prepared I am to preserve his legacy. How lucky I am that God seems to have set in place a crew of folks to help me steer closer to doing tribute to my pop and his gift.
Yesterday I went up to the Stadium to try to sweet talk some tickets for the final Dodger game on Sunday which happens to be Spud’s 12th birthday. Those of you who follow this blog will remember that Spuds has not only had a birthday fall on Yom Kippur but last year his father projectile vomited at the entrance gate to Disneyland on his birthday, which I hope is his bad birthday topper for life. This year, due to the Grandpa dying situation, I am particularly committed to making a sweet celebration. I entered the stadium office and walked right into Tommy Lasorda and Jamie McCourt (the owner of the team) and immediately, upon seeing white haired twinkly eyed Tommy, burst into tears and started nattering on like a total fool about my little one having just lost his grandpa right before his birthday. My husband would have puked again at THIS performance. Nevertheless, Tommy said to tell Spuds (who just two weeks ago cheered himself hoarse at Tommy’s 80th birthday celebration) that he’d always have another Grandpa and he wrote Spuds a note and sent a picture and some other Dodger swag. And we got the tickets to the game on Sunday too.
Last night was Himself’s big panel discussion about book reviewing for IWOSC and while I snickered inside that a man who couldn’t change a tire if there were a gun pointed at his head touted his working class background, he was erudite and witty and poised and after his stellar performance a lady thrust a pair of jumbo knockers at him while she begged him to review her book.
Aisles of films. Tommy Lasorda. Budding writers and boobs. Feeling God and knowing the power of sadness and of comfort.