I survived the visitation and the funeral. Just "being there" wasn't as hard as the need to decompress alone, which is just a part of being me. Working out, which is almost as good as reading or watching Lewis Black solo, helped me reunite with my inner calm.
In September of 1930, a baby boy was born. His father loved prize fighting and wanted to name the child Jack Dempsey. The boy's mother disliked the idea and said so. The father said "What if we name the child William Harrison instead?" The mother, not knowing the full story, agreed. Turns out that the substitute was Jack's real name.
Today we said goodbye to this man, who I first wrote about here - http://esro.blogspot.com/2005/05/bargain.html
I do want to mention that in my March 18th post, I knew something was up was up with Rafael Palmeiro. Slug.