Alright, Dad, now what?
March 24, 2009Today is the 15th anniversary of the Negress’ dad’s death. Maybe he was the Dadess. Anyway, after a series of strokes that deformed his brain, he passed away about 10 days after his feeding tube was removed. It was our mother’s decision and it was a good one. I was wandering the countryside in Rock Goddess mode, but came home to send him home.
In every two-kid, two-parent household, each kid gets a parent. The Dadess was my parent. He took me to every conceivable basketball event under the sun, and I suspect he would be proud that American University has made the NCAA tournament two years running ( He got a master’s there). I also traded attendance at basketball events for hockey outings, which before the Caps came to DC were scarce indeed. He told about seeing Josh Gibson hit a ball out dead center at Griffith Stadium when he was a kid. I love baseball in spite of everything. Thanks to Dad, I saw Roberto Clemente and Willie Mays. Mays was well past his prime, but Clemente was in his last season before his death, which hit hard.
Anyway, it seemed like a good idea to salute my Dadess. I will probably drink some more of the 2007 Corey Creek rose this evening. Other wines that have found their way onto the Negress’ coffee table are the 2006 Casa Lapostolle Cabernet Sauvignon (great little wine for the money, which is around $10), and a 2005 Las Rocas Garnacha. I opened the rose to summon spring, which began here with snowfall and wind-chills in the teens. Perhaps it will warm up enough for me to salvage the yard.
Speaking of spring training, the Astros have brought no joy to this house, so the Negress is clinging feverishly to her beloved New Jersey Devils, who sit atop a relentlessly mediocre division. The team has played like crap of late, and are not likely to make it past the second round of the playoffs if they even get out of the first. It’s nice that Marty Brodeur is back and breaking records for victories, but this team is too old and too inconsistent to win the Cup this year. I hate to say it, but it’s true.
to the dadess!