PhotoShoot Sunday 16March08

I watched the movie, "Juno" this week. I had seen the previews months ago but we hadn't gotten around to seeing it on a date night, and I had the chance to play hooky of sorts from work Friday and sneaked in to see it with my boss and a couple of other friends from work.

I was prepared for it to be fun. But it turned out to be a tear-jerker that reminded me how much I miss my dad. So in the zeal of some weekend Spring Cleaning, I found some old shots of him. My melancholy got started, I think, by my friend Scott at work who was making some fun of my squirrel days and remarked that my dad was a good looking guy. That naturally led to how old is he, which led to that awkward moment where you admit you're an orphan and your friend doesn't know quite what to say. So then I go to "Juno" and sit through some scenes where the dad could have been my father, and I was done in.

The shots today include one of my all-time favorites -- the shot of Dad and his brothers. I think James Dean must have known them. It had to be on Uncle Bill's wedding day because he's the one wearing the flower. My dad is on the left. Next to him is Uncle Eddie, who along with Larry on the end liked to blow stuff up (they stole dynamite from the coal mines) and hopped trains to do wild boy stuff in Terre Haute when it was Sin City. Jack is in the middle. He suffered some mental health issues when I was little and I never really got to know him but back in the day, I'm told he was fun. Bill is the flower child -- a Viet Nam vet who traveled the world and turned Republican on us. (heavy sigh) Don't they look like trouble?!

The other is the only proof I had that my dad ever played cards. The Fundamentalists frown on it, you know, but when you're in uniform, I guess you get a pass. My dad was stationed in Germany and on his way to a plane bound for Korea in 1953 when a sergeant came running and said "Unload 'em. The Armistice is signed."

Dad never talked about his time overseas. But I stole a bunch of old photos and documents a few years before he died, sat him down, interviewed him and made him an album of those days. He said he didn't play poker after he came home because he liked it too much when he was in Germany.

Unfortunately, his apparent card skills didn't translate to me. On the bus trip Friday to our work R&R, I got smoked at euchre.

The last shot is my Dad with Ali back when she had an ounce of fat on her bones. He loved her then; he would have just been head over heels now. OK, enough of this.

In other news:

Congrats to my friend, Lisa, who celebrates three years of incorporation and her thriving Gracie Communications.

Congrats are also due to Jonathan Swain, but it's his news, so call him if you want to know. The last time I outed news I thought was old, it involved Lisa and John, and I outed it to Jonathan. So I'm gun shy. But it's GREAT news.... Go Hilary!

I'm not usually one to forward videos, nor am I an Oprah devotee. But she's has a winner with this segment on a guy who offers some great life lesson advice. It comes to me courtesy of my friend Jackie who was too scared to watch it. Her doctor had sent it to her and she was afraid he was either telling her she was dying or breaking up with her and either way, she didn't want to know. It's well worth the click. P.S. Jackie: you're not dying or losing your doctor...

And finally, one particularly bitter morning I was driving Alison to school and she asked if Spring was ever going to come. I told her the old adage about March coming in like a lion and out like a lamb. On the way home from school Friday, she said looked around and said, "Mom, is it time for that lamb yet?" Amen, sister, I said. Cross your fingers that it is, indeed, finally time for the lamb. At least in Indiana. My family in Maine is still suffering. Air fare to Indy is cheap right now...