To say goodbye.

I went to church last month to pray for an acquaintance I had the good fortune to meet more than once, the sister-in-law of a childhood best friend who took care of him for months while he recovered from a terrible accident, who was an inspiring person but was terribly ill.  She died peacefully with loved ones around while I was driving to church so I know she was with the Lord even as I prayed for her.

Another loss I encountered last year was a man I chatted up while I was out on a run in early September on Railroad Avenue in my hometown, an African American who had lived there always, in the bad times when there was segregation in the state I live in, and the good times when he could have sold his formerly depressed property for a lot because now it was fronting the W&OD Trail whereas formerly it was merely by the railroad tracks.  He was an interesting fellow, full of anecdotes about the olden times, whom I intended to chat up again on future encounters, and I was shocked to learn from another occupant of that block last month that he passed away in the fall.

We lost notable celebrities last year as well, from the sweet sounding Leon Russell to the caustic tongued Antonin Scalia.  David Bowie who sang sadly about the slow death of Major Tom, spinning out of control in his runaway spaceship whose last transmission was to tell his wife that he loved her.

George Michael who sang Father Figure, a song I'll always remember and that I loved because it came out around the time of the birth of my middle son and I always associate it with him.  Tell my son that I loved him.

Wassup Johnny, or Father Figure

My middle child Johnny was born while I was in my first semester of law school in Charlottesville. Since I was embarking upon a second career, I was the oldest student in my small section, by a lot. I became a hit at our small section parties because I would attend for a couple of hours, bringing the baby to give my wife a break, and then go home. My presence enabled the younger students to "practice" at having children. They'd hold the baby for awhile, beaming, and then hand him back to me when he turned fussy. There's nothing better than playing with babies and being able to unload them as soon as they start to fidget. Just ask any grandparent. (No, I'm not that old.)

The song that was being played endlessly on popular radio while we were busy with newborn Johnny was Father Figure by George Michael. It's a fine song all right, but the real reason it is listed in my Favorite Music section is because whenever I hear the lush and beseeching tune, I think of Johnny, who I haven't spoken with in two years nor seen in four. (Johnny a long time ago.)

What a fine boy Johnny was! Somber, industrious, responsible, determined, stubborn in a good sense, very intelligent, an award-winning science team member and a crafty and analytical sweeper on his select soccer team. I know from providing full tuition that he attends college in Richmond. Wassup Johnny? And happy birthday!


I will be the one who loves you til the end of time.