But where was the recipe? Once through the recipe box. No cookie dough. The second time I landed on the “drunken meatball” recipe, a staple at my parents’ Christmas parties, but still no cookie dough. With rising panic, I spread the box’s contents on the kitchen table. If it wasn’t there, it was gone.
On October 23rd, my father would have been 100 years old. Last year for his 99th, I flew to San Antonio with a suitcase full of
After I raced to my father’s deathbed and but didn’t make it in time, my closest friend, whom I met when I was 15, brought
But, it is also true, that we were robbed – by circumstance, by uncertainty, by choice, and by chance – and I would give anything to live that last day over
If, in the end, my father survives until 100th birthday, it will be a function of good PPE, luck, and divine intervention.
Road maps, off ramps, anxiety, hope, trust, and distrust in equal measure characterize the current mood at UNC. Even as we believe our colleagues in