This letter alludes to a trip to Chicago to see Reid. That trip has come and gone. Look for coverage in the letter posted next week.
June 17, 2013
Ellen/Reid: Of all the stinking mornings I could have slept in – not just stayed in bed but actually slept – it would have been this morning. Drives me nuts. There are no mornings, Saturday and Sunday included, where I’m not up-and-at-‘em at the crack of dawn, literally watching the clock at 5:33 or 5:49 and then up like a shot at 6 a.m. to make coffee. It’s awful.
They continue with the layoffs down here. A good friend of mine got let go, and he’s having to pull up roots and head toward Maryland for his next job. He’s a great, competent guy – and just like that he’s gone. This was where he wanted to live, he and his wife had a nice house in a good neighborhood and that’s all gone away. We played one final round of golf together on Saturday and he gave me the skinny on everything. He’s in his upper 50s and it’s just a wrenching experience at this time in life. If it were me I suppose I could get by but you want to run out the string before a true retirement.
Hilarious, Ellen, hearing Emma in the back seat. She’d just had a long weekend of seeing folks and being held, etc. A couple of good naps and she’ll be her rambunctious self again; i.e. getting into everything, not obeying, etc. You’ll get used to it, when she’s about 25.
And by the time you get this, Reid, I’ll probably be plopped down on your couch or catching some zzzzzzzzzzzz’s in the guest bedroom. It will be exciting to head to Chicago. I wish Felicia could go but her job is her job and that’s okay.
It’s going to be cool when we head to the Pacific Northwest in about three weeks. The morning temps along the Washington coast are in the upper 40s and lower 50s and should scarcely climb into the 60s for highs if you believe the weather forecasts. We’re not entirely sure what or how much to take although it can’t be a lot. The bike simply doesn’t have the room and we don’t have the luxury of parking other bags someplace. We’ll take a couple of pairs of jeans, some wash and line dry shirts, boots and our leathers (and rain gear, too). I think it’s a good idea to get some lodging ahead of time but Felicia is sort of resistant, thinking we should just wing it on where we stay. In theory that sounds good unless it’s midnight and you’re hunting for a room somewhere. I guess we’ll make do. All part of the adventure. We still don’t have a firm itinerary. We’ll make it up as we go. Beyond the baseball game Saturday night, we have nothing planned.
Your uncle had some WWII shrapnel that became lodged in your grandfather’s flak jacket encased in a solid block of plastic. One wonders if my brother and I, and you, would be here if that jacket hadn’t caught that hurling piece of metal that tore through their B-17. I held the jagged thing when we were going through grandpa’s stuff and this is probably the highest and best use for it.
Thanks for the texts for Father’s Day. And for the absence of any gifts – I am beyond the necktie stage – because there is nothing I need or want, other than plane tickets to see both of you. I played golf and that was about it. I had a good walk with my friend Ted and we repaired to a sports bar to watch the conclusion of the U.S. Open golf over a couple of beers and a burger. That’s a pretty good way to spend a Father’s Day.
Alright I’m out of here. Time for my walk if my aging bones and sore ankles will put up with me.