We did our usual Wednesday running around and finally landed back at the house around 4:30. Granddaddy gave me a letter I had received today. At first glance he said, "I'll bet he's died." After looking at the letter I thought, "Hmm, he can't be dead because he addressed the letter to us himself, unless he was planning to be dead."
I opened the letter wondering why he had written. I hadn't talked to him or heard from him since right after Christmas. I had gotten a note in my usual Christmas card, telling me he had lost his beloved wife in February of the previous year. That was a shock to me. I had attempted to contact him with phone numbers I had before they moved into an assisted living facility, about three or four years earlier. I had no luck and was very afraid I had lost contact with him after all this time.
After a little skip tracing which I had learned on the job years ago, I decided to contact the facility directly. I was told they couldn't give me his telephone number and I understood that. They did offer to take my name and number an promised to make sure he would get it. They thought he may still be out of town for the holidays, visiting his oldest son and his wife in the North Georgia mountains.
I had decided to get and mail a sympathy card just in case I didn't get in touch with him within the next few days. I can't tell you how very difficult it is to express your condolences to someone who enjoyed a happy, wonderful life with their spouse of 60 or more years. I managed to type out (I know that's not good manners, but nothing would be sent if I couldn't type it out) a few of my feelings and had gone to the post office and mailed it.
We had not been home very long that afternoon when the phone rang and I answered to his old familiar, deep voice. He had returned home; they had given him my message and phone number and he returned my call.
He and I talked for quite a while re-hashing lots of old memories from our past that spanned an over-all period of a couple of years short of 50 years. I listened while he talked of his loss. We chatted about the good old days. I made a promise to myself I wouldn't let so much time pass between phone calls next time.
The last time I had talked with him was around five years earlier. I had not gotten my yearly Christmas card and I was very afraid something had happened to one of them. I was afraid of what my search would reveal. I had called his son's house to talk with his son. He lived next door to his parents and I knew he could give me an update. I didn't get him, but I did have a nice talk with his your high school aged son who happened to be home that night. I explained to him who I was and why I was calling. He assured me that his Granddaddy and Grandmother were indeed just fine. He couldn't explain the reason I hadn't gotten my yearly card, but he could assure me they were fine. He suggested I call them at their house maybe the next day.
I did, but I got an answering machine and decided I would just leave a message. That happened to be on a Friday before we were leaving to go out of town to help my daugher and son-in-law finish their moved to Knoxville. I was going to help my daughter finish up with putting the finishing touches on the kitchen, etc. and we were going to have a few days together before she went back to work there.
It didn't work out quite like we had planned. I fell the first night we were there as we were headed out for dinner around 8:00 that night. I had been warned plenty of times to watch that bottom step, but somehow I just didn't remember it and I fell up the step and after giving it some thought I decided perhaps I should go to the doctor and have it checked out. I found out I had broken my wrist. This stopped all our plans. It was the day before Granddaddy's birthday. I had baked a birthday cake for him. But the visit with our daughter had been shortened by the broken bone.
We returned home and I found a message on my telephone. He had gotten my message and had returned the call. I suspect his grandson had told him I had tried to get in touch with him. We enjoyed a visit over the phone then and that would be the last verbal visit we would have until January of this year.
As I opened the letter today I found a picture on the front of a memorial card and an obituary from a local newspaper. It was a write-up of his oldest son. It covered the events of his life from his days of graduating from college with an engineering degree to his jobs in the construction field where he had advanced on to supervising lots of major projects including building the hotels of a very large chain in several states. He had been a pilot of 20 years. He had constructed several large subdivisions in the area. He had done major work and continued it for many years at a large airport in the area and then moved on to another town and was working in the same line. He had an amazing and interesting work ethic. Who would be surprised. He had been raised by two good role models.
It isn't supposed to be that way. You aren't supposed to out-live your children. But he had out-lived his oldest son.
I went to my computer to find the telephone number to call him to let him know how much I was feeling his sorrow. I knew I had put the number down in my address system. But somehow I hadn't. I don't know what went wrong because I knew I had it in one of two places, but I couldn't find it in the other place either.
I went on my second skip tracing to find the telephone number. I would call the assisted living facility once again. Only they weren't using the same name. After about half an hour of figuring and refiguring I finally found the number. Apparently not because nobody answered at the number I had. I called the only other remaining number and luck would have it, someone answered.
I explained I had his number once before but somehow I had misplaced it and requested they once again take my name and number and ask him to call me when he felt up to talking.
I had figured he would be at his dinner meal around 5:00 so I waited for him to call back.
He did, about 30-45 minutes later.
He was devastated by his son's death as was to be expected. We talked for a while going from the sad times to the happier times. This was his third loss in close to four years. He had lost his oldest granddaughter in a terrible accident when a woman had hit her car while she was going to a college class with some friends. She was driving and the woman hit her head on and killed her and maybe another girl or two.
It was a life wasted. She had gotten her medical degree from another college and was working on a scholarship in forensics. She was a very bright young lady. A very good girl. She didn't deserve what happened to her. They didn't deserve what had happened to them through her loss. Sometimes life just doesn't have answers.
He was still mourning the death of his beautiful wife, now he has to deal with his oldest child's death. His son had known his health problems for around three years. Then two years ago he had been diagnosed with leukemia. He chose not to let any of his family, except his wife, know what was going on. He made her promise not to tell anyone else. That's a big burden to carry.
Even when his mom died a little over a year ago, he still wouldn't let his dad know about his health problems. In some ways you might think he was selfish not to let him know, but maybe he knew just how hard it has been on him for the last months. He didn't want to add anything else to his sadness.
This son was a fine young man. I never in all the years I knew them, did I ever hear of any problems he gave his parents. Over all he apparently was loved by many even outside his family. So much sadness.
On a lighter note he asked me if I had called the cafeteria and left the message. I had no idea what number I had called. I just called until someone answered. Anyway, they had tracked him down in the cafeteria where he was eating. Now, I'll never know whether or not it was the cafeteria, but leave it to me to do weird things.....
Again, as the last time he and I spent a while just talking about anything that came to mind.
Granddaddy picked up on the other line and talked with him, too for a while. After Granddaddy hung up he said to me, "You got a good man, kiddo!" I didn't hesitate to agree with him. I did get a good man. My kids have the best daddy. But I'm not sure he always thought he was such a good man. Forty eight years ago this same man was trying to protect me from that good man. I'm glad he's finally come across with his approval.
He and I have some history between us. This was the man who hired what he called a 'green little kid, fresh out of high school,' and it was his life's mission to take that little kid under his wing and protect her from any harm he felt was coming her way.
I was that man's secretary for over 10-11+ years, enduring his watchful eye every step of the way. He is right; we've had a great friendship for many, many years even though he scared the absolute bejeebers out of me those 10-11 years I worked for him.
I feel his pain in his losses. I also appreciate him. My protector...my daddy away from home. My friend. I really should make sure I don't put so much time in between phone calls. I shouldn't be that busy that I can't stay in touch with this friend.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Friday, July 2, 2010
Does this toilet seat make
On one of our potty stops while out yesterday this is conversation with Annabelle as it was my turn to sit on the potty:
Annabelle: You got a big hiney, Grandmomma!
Grandmomma: Thanks, Annabelle, I needed that.
I knew my tummy was big, but I didn't know my hiney was all that big. It must have been the toilet seat.
Annabelle: You got a big hiney, Grandmomma!
Grandmomma: Thanks, Annabelle, I needed that.
I knew my tummy was big, but I didn't know my hiney was all that big. It must have been the toilet seat.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Tidbits
Around noontime we picked up Annabelle for an afternoon of just "us" time. Since Sophia has come into our family we haven't had as much time with just Annabelle. We started out eating at the Piccadilly.
On the way we cut through some back streets and suddenly Annabelle got excited. "That's where I went to the doctor!" she says. Then it hit me that we were indeed in the area of where one of her appointments for evaluation of speech therapy had taken place. We zigged and zagged around and since we obviously didn't go in the same way, things didn't seem quite the same after a certain point. But she was right, I'm sure, that it was the same place she had been earlier.
One conversation completely out of the blue with Annabelle, while we were eating lunch:
Annabelle: Molly cheers for Georgia. I don't cheer for Georgia. I cheer for Tennessee!
Grandmomma: Why does Molly cheer for Georgia?
Annabelle: Because she likes Georgia. I don't like Georgia. I like Tennessee. I want them to win. We (Daddy and Annabelle) watch football on t.v. We cheer for Tennessee!
Grandmomma: And why do you suppose Molly likes Georgia?
Annabelle: Because her Mommy and Daddy went to school there.
Grandmomma: And your Daddy went to...?
Annabelle: TENNESSEE!
Grandmomma: I don't like Georgia, either. I have to cheer for Tennessee. Well, sometimes I like Georgia...when they aren't playing Tennessee.
Annabelle: YEAH!
I have no idea what provoked that conversation. Georgia and Tennessee had not even entered the conversation. But so much for what thoughts run through her head.
I think she's quite good for a 3 1/2 year old when it comes to noticing direction and where she is. Really amazing to me. Of course she is quite the traveler so I guess that helps some..
And she has a good memory for other things as well. As soon as she had finished her meal she reminded me she wanted a balloon. The same lady almost always takes our tray and seats us. She always remembered to ask about the other two who were missing in the family, too.
But first, from the visit to Journey's End yesterday, she wanted to play a game of putting a small amount of food in her mouth while she had her eyes closed and she would guess what the food was. I was reprimended for not following Mommy rules for eating her food.
Annabelle: But you put too much food on my plate. Mommy doesn't put that much on it.
Usually Mommy puts a litte bit of food on her plate and requests that she at least try it and if she wants more she can have more. I'm accustomed to putting amounts of her favorite things on her plate in amounts I'm sure she will have no problem eating. That didn't work this time.
We did play our game for a few bites until she was all finished and ready for her dessert of bran muffin (the whole one she didn't want to share with me.) Then it was onto the balloon. And our kind waitress obliged by bringing her a pretty red one this time.
Since she had barely eaten the pile I had put on her plate we took the remaining food and beloved balloon home for safety and the food for her to eat later tonight. She asked that I tell Mommy not to eat the rest of it while we were gone so she could have it later. I doubt she ate it later, but that was her request.
Then it was on to Stone Mountain. She kept telling her Granddaddy he was going the wrong way. And he was because he had turned too early and we had to change our route. She knew this wasn't the way to Stone Mountain because Daddy didn't go that way. He takes her out there on Saturdays sometimes...enough that she knows her way....maybe. Every turn we made brought on the same statement. We weren't going the right way, Granddaddy. At one point she even reminded me we couldn't go that way because we had to stop by Publix to get some hotdog buns or some cereal or something to feed the ducks. And, of course, we didn't turn the right way to go into the park. She's such a little back-seat driver. When she drives she's going to have to be behind the wheel because only she and her Daddy know how to get there.
At one point I told her we were going to let her drive next time, to which she replied in a soft little voice, "But I'm not old enough to drive!"
After a few real life unintentional mis-turns and Granddaddy not following her directions we finally made it down to the lake for her to feed the ducks. Four baby ducks, or four young ducks I should say, and their Mommy attached themselves to us. We figured the biggest duck was "Mommy Duck" because she stayed right on them and she would quack her warnings out to the babies. I'm sure she was telling them, "Don't get too close to that little girl. You don't know if she's your friend or enemy. Stay back. Don't fight over the food. Let me have a chance for a bite of it." There were several other bigger ducks out wanting so much to be able to get their share.
Mommy Duck was determined they wouldn't bully her babies around. After she was more comfortable with us being around, she would turn herself around, duck her head low and she would fly out at the others, keeping them away from her babies and their feeding time.
Even the sassy Blue Jays were perched in the trees waiting for their chance to swoop down to eat their share. They got very few chances because those babies were on that food as soon as it hit the ground. We had to throw Mommy Duck her food above the heads of the babies.
A couple of times Annabelle apparently got a bit generous with the amount she threw and Mommy Duck grabbed up the big piece and moved down into the edge of the water where she promptly ducked her bill down into the water to make sure it was soft enough for her to eat without choking. Maybe she was teaching her babies a lesson or maybe she knew it was too much for her, but she did this several time. Quite interesting.
Granddaddy had just pulled our chairs out so we could enjoy watching the ducks and Annabelle when she decided she had to go potty. Since we didn't have the portable potty with us (one thing I had forgotten to ask for) we had to pack everything up and go back up the hill to the potty.
We had enjoyed the ducks already for a good bit of time, so instead of returning to the lake, she decided she wanted to walk down to the grist mill. Well, she thought she wanted to go to the grist mill. She really just wanted to walk along on the ledges and run ahead of me. She and I spent a good amount of time just running (that would be her, not me) along and just enjoying ourselves.I kept reminding her I no longer could move as fast as she moves. I was really afraid she would fall on the stone steps and get hurt, but she didn't seem to see the danger.
She found a bit of sand in one area and decided she needed to stop and play in it. She wanted to take her shoes off, but I discouraged that, so she promptly just pour the sand over her entire shoe, down into her socks and shoes. Uggg!
We stayed down there for a good while and then finally I convinced her we needed to move back up to where Granddaddy was waiting in the car. I never realized just how old I'm getting until I tried to keep up with her coming and going to and from that car. I was completely exhausted by
the time we got back to Granddaddy.
One other thought, when we pulled into the parking spot to go to the bathroom, beside us was a pretty little convertible, top down and all. She said, "I like dat car!" I'm sure she did and I'm sure that will be one of those things in life that will totally drive her Mommy to her wits end once she gets her very own convertible. She's already showing signs of being a wild woman in her future years.
The train came by while we were turning to go down to feed the ducks, earlier. She decided she was through with the ducks for now and she wanted to go down near the train tracks. She also stated she wanted to ride the train, but we talked her into waiting another time for that. She said she hasn't ridden on it before and I thought maybe Mommy and Daddy wanted to be there for that. She agreed.
She kept telling us we couldn't park in the parking lot near the train. We had to walk. Well, I can't tell you how excited I was about that. Apparently she was right. We never found a close enough parking spot for poor-worn-out Grandmomma to make the trip down to the train tracks. I was informed we could call Daddy. He knows where it is. Apparently everything about Stone Mountain is within Daddy's realm of knowledge. She said Mommy wouldn't know. Daddy would.
Before we left the park we made one final round to feed the ducks. Armed with one hot dog bun we started out for the ducks, but not before she wanted to share with me the special place she and Daddy walked.
Annabelle: I'll show you where we walk. (Annabelle and Daddy).
Grandmomma: I'm really tired, Annabelle, maybe next time.
At this point we were out of the car and she was headed toward the fenced-in area leading to the area where they walked. I followed. And, of course, she had to hug a tree. A small tree. For a picture to remember earlier years when she had hugged a big tree for a picture. This was her idea. On the way out I pointed out the tree I thought she had hugged when she was younger. She looked at it and decided I wasn't right. It was too big. I guess we'll have to pull out the old pictures to jolt her memory.
On the way back to the car at the end of the day she said, "Grandmomma, do you think you and Grandaddy can come back and get me tomorrow? Maybe for three hours." (At least it wasn't her usual favorite numbers of 28-now-27!) Of course that made me feel good because she had enjoyed her time with us.
Finally we were on the way home with a tired little girl in the back seat. She kept rubbing her eyes and she had started coughing. That started up while we were walking down near the grist mill. She said, "I think I'm getting sick again."
She really wanted to go to sleep on the way home, but I didn't want to mess up her bedtime this late in the game so we engaged her in a conversation about what the Mommy Duck probably said to her babies when she was quacking at them.
Annabelle: What do you think she said to them, Grandmomma?
Grandmomma: Don't get too close to her. She might want to grab you and eat you!
Annabelle: What else did she say, Grandmomma?
Grandmomma: Don't be greedy!
On and on this conversation went. After exhausting all my thoughts on what Mommy Duck would/could have said/thought, I asked Granddaddy what he thought Mommy Duck had said. He thought for a moment and then said,
Granddaddy: She probably said, You better eat all your dinner. I'm not cooking again today.
Now, where did that come from? Out of the mouths of three and a half year olds and Granddaddys...
When we had talked earlier about whether she was ready to go home or not she had said, no, she wasn't ready, but then finally she said she was ready. She wanted to go home to see Mommy and Sophia.
Every good thing has to end eventually. And it was a good day for all. That's all that counts.
On the way we cut through some back streets and suddenly Annabelle got excited. "That's where I went to the doctor!" she says. Then it hit me that we were indeed in the area of where one of her appointments for evaluation of speech therapy had taken place. We zigged and zagged around and since we obviously didn't go in the same way, things didn't seem quite the same after a certain point. But she was right, I'm sure, that it was the same place she had been earlier.
One conversation completely out of the blue with Annabelle, while we were eating lunch:
Annabelle: Molly cheers for Georgia. I don't cheer for Georgia. I cheer for Tennessee!
Grandmomma: Why does Molly cheer for Georgia?
Annabelle: Because she likes Georgia. I don't like Georgia. I like Tennessee. I want them to win. We (Daddy and Annabelle) watch football on t.v. We cheer for Tennessee!
Grandmomma: And why do you suppose Molly likes Georgia?
Annabelle: Because her Mommy and Daddy went to school there.
Grandmomma: And your Daddy went to...?
Annabelle: TENNESSEE!
Grandmomma: I don't like Georgia, either. I have to cheer for Tennessee. Well, sometimes I like Georgia...when they aren't playing Tennessee.
Annabelle: YEAH!
I have no idea what provoked that conversation. Georgia and Tennessee had not even entered the conversation. But so much for what thoughts run through her head.
I think she's quite good for a 3 1/2 year old when it comes to noticing direction and where she is. Really amazing to me. Of course she is quite the traveler so I guess that helps some..
And she has a good memory for other things as well. As soon as she had finished her meal she reminded me she wanted a balloon. The same lady almost always takes our tray and seats us. She always remembered to ask about the other two who were missing in the family, too.
But first, from the visit to Journey's End yesterday, she wanted to play a game of putting a small amount of food in her mouth while she had her eyes closed and she would guess what the food was. I was reprimended for not following Mommy rules for eating her food.
Annabelle: But you put too much food on my plate. Mommy doesn't put that much on it.
Usually Mommy puts a litte bit of food on her plate and requests that she at least try it and if she wants more she can have more. I'm accustomed to putting amounts of her favorite things on her plate in amounts I'm sure she will have no problem eating. That didn't work this time.
We did play our game for a few bites until she was all finished and ready for her dessert of bran muffin (the whole one she didn't want to share with me.) Then it was onto the balloon. And our kind waitress obliged by bringing her a pretty red one this time.
Since she had barely eaten the pile I had put on her plate we took the remaining food and beloved balloon home for safety and the food for her to eat later tonight. She asked that I tell Mommy not to eat the rest of it while we were gone so she could have it later. I doubt she ate it later, but that was her request.
Then it was on to Stone Mountain. She kept telling her Granddaddy he was going the wrong way. And he was because he had turned too early and we had to change our route. She knew this wasn't the way to Stone Mountain because Daddy didn't go that way. He takes her out there on Saturdays sometimes...enough that she knows her way....maybe. Every turn we made brought on the same statement. We weren't going the right way, Granddaddy. At one point she even reminded me we couldn't go that way because we had to stop by Publix to get some hotdog buns or some cereal or something to feed the ducks. And, of course, we didn't turn the right way to go into the park. She's such a little back-seat driver. When she drives she's going to have to be behind the wheel because only she and her Daddy know how to get there.
At one point I told her we were going to let her drive next time, to which she replied in a soft little voice, "But I'm not old enough to drive!"
After a few real life unintentional mis-turns and Granddaddy not following her directions we finally made it down to the lake for her to feed the ducks. Four baby ducks, or four young ducks I should say, and their Mommy attached themselves to us. We figured the biggest duck was "Mommy Duck" because she stayed right on them and she would quack her warnings out to the babies. I'm sure she was telling them, "Don't get too close to that little girl. You don't know if she's your friend or enemy. Stay back. Don't fight over the food. Let me have a chance for a bite of it." There were several other bigger ducks out wanting so much to be able to get their share.
Mommy Duck was determined they wouldn't bully her babies around. After she was more comfortable with us being around, she would turn herself around, duck her head low and she would fly out at the others, keeping them away from her babies and their feeding time.
Even the sassy Blue Jays were perched in the trees waiting for their chance to swoop down to eat their share. They got very few chances because those babies were on that food as soon as it hit the ground. We had to throw Mommy Duck her food above the heads of the babies.
A couple of times Annabelle apparently got a bit generous with the amount she threw and Mommy Duck grabbed up the big piece and moved down into the edge of the water where she promptly ducked her bill down into the water to make sure it was soft enough for her to eat without choking. Maybe she was teaching her babies a lesson or maybe she knew it was too much for her, but she did this several time. Quite interesting.
Granddaddy had just pulled our chairs out so we could enjoy watching the ducks and Annabelle when she decided she had to go potty. Since we didn't have the portable potty with us (one thing I had forgotten to ask for) we had to pack everything up and go back up the hill to the potty.
We had enjoyed the ducks already for a good bit of time, so instead of returning to the lake, she decided she wanted to walk down to the grist mill. Well, she thought she wanted to go to the grist mill. She really just wanted to walk along on the ledges and run ahead of me. She and I spent a good amount of time just running (that would be her, not me) along and just enjoying ourselves.I kept reminding her I no longer could move as fast as she moves. I was really afraid she would fall on the stone steps and get hurt, but she didn't seem to see the danger.
She found a bit of sand in one area and decided she needed to stop and play in it. She wanted to take her shoes off, but I discouraged that, so she promptly just pour the sand over her entire shoe, down into her socks and shoes. Uggg!
We stayed down there for a good while and then finally I convinced her we needed to move back up to where Granddaddy was waiting in the car. I never realized just how old I'm getting until I tried to keep up with her coming and going to and from that car. I was completely exhausted by
the time we got back to Granddaddy.
One other thought, when we pulled into the parking spot to go to the bathroom, beside us was a pretty little convertible, top down and all. She said, "I like dat car!" I'm sure she did and I'm sure that will be one of those things in life that will totally drive her Mommy to her wits end once she gets her very own convertible. She's already showing signs of being a wild woman in her future years.
The train came by while we were turning to go down to feed the ducks, earlier. She decided she was through with the ducks for now and she wanted to go down near the train tracks. She also stated she wanted to ride the train, but we talked her into waiting another time for that. She said she hasn't ridden on it before and I thought maybe Mommy and Daddy wanted to be there for that. She agreed.
She kept telling us we couldn't park in the parking lot near the train. We had to walk. Well, I can't tell you how excited I was about that. Apparently she was right. We never found a close enough parking spot for poor-worn-out Grandmomma to make the trip down to the train tracks. I was informed we could call Daddy. He knows where it is. Apparently everything about Stone Mountain is within Daddy's realm of knowledge. She said Mommy wouldn't know. Daddy would.
Before we left the park we made one final round to feed the ducks. Armed with one hot dog bun we started out for the ducks, but not before she wanted to share with me the special place she and Daddy walked.
Annabelle: I'll show you where we walk. (Annabelle and Daddy).
Grandmomma: I'm really tired, Annabelle, maybe next time.
At this point we were out of the car and she was headed toward the fenced-in area leading to the area where they walked. I followed. And, of course, she had to hug a tree. A small tree. For a picture to remember earlier years when she had hugged a big tree for a picture. This was her idea. On the way out I pointed out the tree I thought she had hugged when she was younger. She looked at it and decided I wasn't right. It was too big. I guess we'll have to pull out the old pictures to jolt her memory.
On the way back to the car at the end of the day she said, "Grandmomma, do you think you and Grandaddy can come back and get me tomorrow? Maybe for three hours." (At least it wasn't her usual favorite numbers of 28-now-27!) Of course that made me feel good because she had enjoyed her time with us.
Finally we were on the way home with a tired little girl in the back seat. She kept rubbing her eyes and she had started coughing. That started up while we were walking down near the grist mill. She said, "I think I'm getting sick again."
She really wanted to go to sleep on the way home, but I didn't want to mess up her bedtime this late in the game so we engaged her in a conversation about what the Mommy Duck probably said to her babies when she was quacking at them.
Annabelle: What do you think she said to them, Grandmomma?
Grandmomma: Don't get too close to her. She might want to grab you and eat you!
Annabelle: What else did she say, Grandmomma?
Grandmomma: Don't be greedy!
On and on this conversation went. After exhausting all my thoughts on what Mommy Duck would/could have said/thought, I asked Granddaddy what he thought Mommy Duck had said. He thought for a moment and then said,
Granddaddy: She probably said, You better eat all your dinner. I'm not cooking again today.
Now, where did that come from? Out of the mouths of three and a half year olds and Granddaddys...
When we had talked earlier about whether she was ready to go home or not she had said, no, she wasn't ready, but then finally she said she was ready. She wanted to go home to see Mommy and Sophia.
Every good thing has to end eventually. And it was a good day for all. That's all that counts.
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