Pacifiers for the soul

Monday marks another anniversary. On June 14, you came to PH chat. Our mutual friend, Mason, had died. I sent you a short inbox message. You answered. Life grew richer.

I still do not understand. Maybe understanding will remain elusive. That does not change the thankfulness.

Some babies and toddlers become attached to objects because that toy or blanket represents comfort. After a time, the child cannot sleep without it. The toddler takes his comfort with him everywhere. Trips outside with the family dog. Spiderman heroing. In the chair while watching that silly panda. Comfort always there -- until the day it finally disintegrates.

I, too, admit to comfort objects. They sit closeby if the need arises. Knowing they are near offers comfort in itself.

Two employee of the month awards somehow validate my career. That and a dusty set of clippings and memories of the people I met. I got an interview with the only person to quit a job at Pantex because the bishop said basically no good Catholic would work for a bomb factory. I got to travel to places I would not otherwise get to see. I met talented chefs and journalists. I worked with dedicated people. We remain friends.

Over the years, I discarded some things I wish I had not. A letter from my dad. Letters from Birt. Pictures. Though they remain in my memory somewhere, it gets harder and harder to see them. I had a purpose at the time for tossing these objects. That reason fades with the memory.

* * *

World Cup starts Friday. I cannot wait. Wall-to-wall soccer for two weeks. After my immersion in the EPL and Europa and Champs League and La Liga (ha), I will probably know players on most of the teams. South Korea, doubtful. Argentina, yes. All the injuries! Maybe the managers play the Ferguson game. One of the more interesting games pits the U.S. and England. Saturday, so early in the matches.

* * *

You hoped for March, I hoped for June. We both lost. I miss you, dude.

Later.