Long been the booze and diabetes. Couple years ago a bad fall, broken leg. Recent tell of smoking outside Jim’s Steakhouse while pulling around a portable oxygen tank. Kid sister from his second marriage now says dementia. My initial thought is not reconciliation but wisdom once shared sitting across a booth from one another at that ancient Denny’s on Oakland Avenue shortly after the divorce, working our way through joint custody, father and son, when a waitress arrives with breakfast.
“What’s the difference between parsley and pussy, pal?”
I am twelve, so can’t say. Not sure she can either.
“Nobody eats parsley.”