About 450 people will dress in 1930's fashion then dance and drink all evening. All dollars go to the Shenango River Watchers, which really is a great group. We've been going for about four years and even became a donor of the once-prohibited brew, last year. Weekend or not, it's always held on December 5th. At the beginning of the night, the BOARD gathers on stage, rings a bell and announces "At last, at last. Better days are here at last."
Unfortunately, we'll have to wait a little longer for those days to come around again.
Frank passed away on Monday.
We knew it was coming soon, but it's no less difficult to accept. Calling hours are tonight.
I feel for Jason. He lost his mother a few years ago, and now his father. Just weeks ago, he took so much time to listen and pay attention to stuff going on in my life, all while he rode his bike to the hospital for visitation. Such concern and compassion coming from him. A true friend.
I woke up at 2:30 this morning and thought about it more. Then, some more. And for the first time in a couple days, it really started affecting me. So, I got up and started writing this, thinking I would have more to write about, but I really don't. I think Bill Watterson may do better...
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