Rant #4,041: Dear God

Back to the cemetery we go ...

You would think we were still in Halloween mode, but that stuff has been over for a few days ...

But back I go to the cemetery.

Let me tell you why.

Going back to September and more than 20 Rants ago, I told you about all the stuff going on with my mother's grave, which was supposed to be maintained, but wasn't.

I went over to the grave a few times since her burial and the unveiling of her stone, but I had not been there in several months, and the grave became, quite frankly. dilapidated.

I made it plain to the cemetery staff that this was wrong, my sister had some problems dealing with them, too, but everything was supposed to be taken care of during their planting season, which is right now in the fall of the calendar year.

I am summarizing all of this, it was more involved than what I described, but it was supposed to be taken care of by now--

And evidently, it was.

A few weeks back, I received a letter from the cemetery, alerting me that the planting season had begun, and that my mother's grave was on the list of those sites where replanting of yew bushes was to proceed.

Them, earlier this week, I received another letter from the cemetery, which amounted to an invoice telling me that the yews were planted--

But nothing on the invoice indicating the cost of the cleanup of the site and the planting.

So I called them, to find out what the cost was.

All I wanted to know was the cost, which I planned to take care of once I found out how much it was, but all I got was--

Another round of agita.

I called, dialed "zero" for operator as I was prompted to do, and all I received were further prompts to tell me that the operator was busy, and that I should hold on where I was.

Finally, after about 10 minutes of this, I was told to hold on again--

And then I was promptly disconnected.

I called back again, and used a different prompt--

The one for purchase of a cemetery plot.

I guess since the prompt on their end read dollar signs, I was picked up immediately.

I told the fellow that picked up why I put in the call to him and not the operator, and he said he would direct me to the proper party.

He said he would put me on hold, some garish, un-cemetery-like music was played that more appropriate for a disco then a cemetery, and then--

I was promptly disconnected again.

I called the cemetery back just as promptly, and pushed the prompt for plot sales again, and I got the same person I spoke to before.

He said he was sorry, and said to hold on again, and he would direct me to the right person.

I hung on the phone, and then a woman picked up.

"There is something wrong with your phone system," I said. "The operator prompt does not work, and I had to go to a different prompt for me to get to you."

"We have 10 operators working here now, and the system is working," she told me.

"No it is not," I said. "What I went through is proof of that, holding for 10 minutes and then being disconnected. And by the way, that hold music is completely inappropriate for a cemetery."

No sorry, no nothing.

"Look, I just want to find out about this invoice without prices that you sent me," and then I told the woman all of the particulars.

"That is all I want to know, what this costs, so I can take care of it here and now ...

"And I should not have had to go through all of this nonsense to get this done."

She told me that the yews had been planted, and that I would receive an invoice for this work early next year.

Fine and good. That is all I wanted to know.

"Look, I want you to understand what I went through. You should know that your system is not working correctly, to be aware of the problem--"

"I will let them know here," she replied, and then I got off the phone with her, hoping never to have to call the cemetery for any reason ever again.

Look, if a cemetery gives you any problems, you simply can't say that you will "take your business elsewhere," and for obvious reasons.

But it seems that every time I have to deal with this place, all I get is a bad case of agita, because no accountability is ever taken.

And besides that, what company, what organization, what enterprise sends out an invoice with no dollar amounts on it, anyway?

Sorry people, this is not the world I was born into.

Inappropriateness, and incompetency appear to be celebrated, while doing the right thing is ...

Well, just not done anymore.

Sure, this might be a minor incident for some of you, but again, this is my mom's resting place, and it should not have been in the dilapidated state it was in to begin with.

She didn't deserve that treatment, and neither did myself or my sister for trying to find out why this was the situation to begin with.

No one should have to deal with this type of behavior, but when it comes to a cemetery where your parents are buried, I mean, what can you do?

The situation appears now to be taken care of ...

It is "dead and buried" in a matter of speaking, but I, personally, won't bury it in the recesses of my brain anytime soon.

My mom deserved more, and better.

Have a nice weekend, and I will speak to you again on Monday.

Rant #4,040: Blinded By the Light

I am just going to say this now, one time, and I am not going to harp on this at all.

What is done is done.

“The tragedy of your times, my young friends, is that you may get exactly what you want ... ."

And we sure did!

(I thank my Facebook "friend" F.Z. for alerting me to that quote, from the Monkees' movie "Head." Funny how perceptive the film, which came out in 1968, still is today.)

Yes, that is just the way I feel.

I kind of knew what the outcome was going to be, because of the dumbed-down population, but you always hope for the best, and hope to be surprised.

Again, when I do that, I always get what I hoped wouldn't happen, but it seems to always play out just like I thought it would.

OK ... move on to other things.

I am doing as well as I could be doing with one eye operating and one eye not.

I have found some things that I cannot do anymore, or at least not do with the ease I once did them with.

One of the worst things is that I am having a little trouble reading the newspaper.

I really have to focus on reading the print of the newspaper--

Even the comic section is a bit of a chore.

And the smaller print, like in the sports section ...

Fuggedaboudit!

But somehow, I am plowing through with this as best as I can.

Also, going from one light pattern to another can be handled, but it takes a moment or two for my eye(s) to get up to snuff on this, so I am managing.

For instance, if I go into dark and then immediately go into light, it takes a couple of seconds for me to get attuned to the light change.

The one surprise is that my peripheral vision has not changed at all.

I thought that that would be one of the obvious drawbacks of using one eye rather than two, but no problems have surfaced in that regard at all.

Yes, I am driving, and while I was never a speed demon, I do drive a bit slower now, and in the dark, I drive even a bit slower.

They are doing a lot of construction around where I live, so it isn't just me who has slowed down a bit on the major road we have here, so I guess my car doesn't stick out from the others.

And yes, my eyes get tired more easily.

Doing what I am doing, including work, tires out my eyes a bit, and by the end of the day, I've pretty much had it.

And I have gotten used to using a variety of eye drops, which have to applied a couple of times a day. 

It is a nuisance, but it keeps my vision in as top a shape as possible.

But otherwise, it's the same old, same old, with a couple of glitches, and I am thankful for that.

So while I am far from happy with the situation, I am certainly managing.

On Monday, I go back to the eye doctor for another checkup, and I am hoping for the best, but I know that my blindness isn't going to change, perhaps for the rest of my lifetime.

It is a sad situation, but I guess there is always something worse.

I can see that clearly, even with one eye.

Rant #4,039: Knock, Knock, Who's There

Here I am.

Butchered, ripped open, sewn shut, one eye works, one eye doesn't ...

But I am still here, still alive, and still around to tantalize you with my thoughts and ideas.

And I am still collecting records like there was no tomorrow.

I do not consider myself a pack rat.

I have always collected things ...

Baseball cards, comics, and records became my true passion during my college years, and I haven't stopped.

We always had music in the home.

My mother was a huge Broadway show person, so she used to buy all the LPs of the latest shows that she and my father saw, everything from "Fiddler On the Roof" to "Hair."

And we always had the radio on to the Top 40 stations of the day, like WMCA and WABC, and all of the others.

My sister and I always had records, bought by my mother, but later, when we were getting into our own stuff and likes and dislikes, we would buy our own records--

Everything from the Monkees to the Cowsills to the Strawberry Alarm Clock.

When my sister married, she basically gave me her record collection, and I went on from there through college and beyond.

Just the other day, I went to my local record store, where it is such a friendly atmosphere, and you can talk to those who own the place and work there about anything and everything under the sun.

It is almost a real-life example of "Floyd's Barber Shop" on the old "Andy Griffith Show," where people used to wander in, not just to get a haircut, but to discuss whatever was going on in Mayberry at that moment.

It is the same atmosphere at this record store.

I have so many records, that I basically have just about everything I want or need, and when I go to the record store, I buy things that are a little left of center, things that catch my fancy that are kind of off the beaten path.

On my latest visit to the store, I bought a couple of things that are kind of out there, if you know what I mean:

"Inner Views," a psychedelic odyssey by the late, very well known anti-drug rocker Sonny Bono. This is a solo album without Cher, it is extremely dated, but since I already had it on CD--it was released several years ago with a lot of bonus material--it was a nice find, and now i can listen to it as it was originally intended.

"You Got What It Takes," one of the final American LPs by the Dave Clark Five. I am a passionate fan of this act--have been since they came on the scene during the "British Invasion--and yes, I already have the album, but in stereo. This is the mono version, not too easy to find, but the DC5 always sounded better in mono, anyway.

I also bought a few singles, by the likes of Every Father's Teenage Son (don't ask, but it is on the fabled Buddah Records label, The Grass Roots (a promo copy of one of their singles), Keith Barbour ("Echo Park," a completely forgotten semi-hit), and Simon Crum (I loved the name of this rockabilly band).

Fun, fun, fun, and I can't wait to listen to this stuff!

It is very relaxing, and when I digitize it, I can listen to all of it in the car.

The past year has been horrible for myself and my family, and listening to records like this puts me in a better frame of mind, and relaxes me.

And God knows I need to relax, because I have learned that there is always something new I have to deal with around every corner.

Listening to this stuff puts me in a way better frame of mind, and it helps me cope with whatever ails me.

I will never stop collecting records--

Not just to have them, but to marvel at how things so simple can make me feel almost brand new.

Rant #4,038: My Prerogative

Today is Election Day ...

And as citizens, it is our duty to vote.

We all have our own personal choices, but the most important thing is to get out and vote. 

My family and I voted early, by making out mail-in ballots.

I have absolutely no doubt that my vote will be counted--

In fact, as I told you a few weeks ago, the Board of Elections contacted me, because while they received my vote, the envelope it was in was damaged or not glued right or whatever, and I had to sign an attestation that it was valid.

Thus, I know they received my vote, and like the votes of my wife and son, it will go through as a valid ballot.

And yes, I have made clear who I am voting for.

I am an independent voter, not drawn to one party or another.

I truly wish that there were no parties, and people voted for who they thought was the best person for the job, rather than for who their party says to vote for.

And in New York--the state with, without a doubt, the most uneducated, ignorant, and quite frankly, the stupidest voters on the face of the planet--my choice are the Republicans, across the board.

I have said it once, I will say it again--the Democratic Party is not the party of JFK anymore.

It is the party of Mamdani, AOC, Sanders, Omar, and the like, the most virulent Jew-haters in the country.

So I believe that a vote for the Democrats--just about any Democrat--is a vote for the "new" Nazi Party.

And nowhere does that show its ugly face better than in the governor's race.

Democrat Kathy Hochul is one of the worst politicians in America beyond her own anti-Semitic tendencies, as she leaches on to every Socialist referendum that is put on the plate, including congestion pricing.

The other day, she brought up the oldest trope in mankind's history, claiming that she would prefer that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu lose his election, because he is the one bringing on the rise of anti-Semitism in New York State.

Blaming Jews for their own anti-Semitism is just such a rancid viewpoint, but there she goes, demonstrating her own stupidity and anti-Jew, anti-Israel stance, which, of course, the media gave very short shrift to.

How anyone--Jew or non-Jew--can vote for this garbage is beyond me, yet she supposedly has a commanding lead in the polls.

Republican Bruce Blakeman, while not a perfect candidate, speaks sensibly, and wants to do away with those who would demean this country, and he has no patience for people like Hochul and all of the Socialist lackeys.

And the one, single debate between him and Hochul was a clear win for the Republican--

It wasn't even close.

Life-long Democrats are just starting to change their tune.

I saw a poll where 36 percent of Democratic Jews will be voting Republican at least this time around, but Blakeman will need a lot more people to vote for him than that, a lot of independents, and a lot of non-Jews who are fed up with the current Democratic Party.

And the great thing is that one does not have to vote "Republican," you can vote "Conservative" if you like--

Like I did.

So it is clear who I am voting for.

But again, the most important thing for U.S. citizens to do is to vote.

It is your obligation as a citizen to do so.

So get out and vote.

Your vote proves that our democracy, even if it is being attacked from all sides, is as strong as ever.

VOTE!!!!!!

Rant #4,037: One of Those Nights

Thank God in the heavens that this fiasco is O-V-E-R!!!!!!!

My daughter is married, the ceremony is over, the celebration is over, and I can move on to more important things in my life.

And yes, I use the word "fiasco" purposely ...

Because as far as I am concerned, that is exactly what it was.

There was a lot of bad karma with this affair, because my daughter absolutely refused to acknowledge me in any way, shape or form as the "father of the bride."

Nothing.

And it proved itself out at the reception, where I was simply a paying guest, and nothing more.

The whole thing started out poorly for us on Saturday--Halloween--as the GPS we used to supposedly direct us to the party site directed us to the wrong site.

We re-navigated--GPS is not always correct--and we still got there about an hour early, but I figured since we were there, we might as well go in, even if we were early.

No, not happening.

We were stopped at the gates by two Halloween dressed figures, who refused to let us in.

I told them I was the father of the bride, but they would not let us in.

Then, my daughter and her soon-to-be husband came out, and they again told us that we could not go in yet.

So we went back to the car, sat there for about 35 minutes, and then I told my wife that we were going in.

The door was locked, but I banged on the door enough that someone opened the door, and I reiterated that I was the father of the bride, and I was coming in.

Finally, they relented, and we came in from the cold early evening to a warmer place.

They had a table list of who was sitting where, and I saw what table we were at ...

But then, I also noticed that for further rubbing salt into the already open wound--

My first name was spelled wrong on the list.

L-A-W-R-E-N-C-E is my name, and they had it spelled L-A-W-E-R-E-N-C-E.

I saw my daughter's mother's husband, I questioned him about this, and he said it was just an oversight.

I felt that God was giving me a clear message that this was going to be one of those nights, one of those crazy old nights.

Finally, the festivities were ready to begin, and in 30-degree temperature, we were herded into the courtyard for an outdoor ceremony.

We were dressed for 50-60 degrees, not 30 degrees, so we begrudgingly went outside to view the ceremony, with our hoodies up over our heads.

The ceremony was officiated by some mail-order minister--a friend of my daughter, from what I understand--who thought he, himself, was funny.

His cleric's "costume" ...

One side of his outfit--which I presume was a Halloween outfit based on the wedding theme--was in full Jesus regalia, with a big cross on it like the Pope would wear.

The other side was the "Jewish" side, which was just so pathetic, as it appeared to be a talis and he wore long pais as part of his hair.

Yes, this was the marriage of a Jew and a non-Jew, but c'mon now ...

It was insulting to say the least.

But the best was yet to come.

My daughter came out looking like a street urchin from "The Little Rascals"/"Our Gang" movie series--kind of like "Butch"--and ...

The groom came out as ...

A bride!

Yes, he was wearing a bride outfit, and let me tell you, he is built like a whale, so it made him look like a whale ...

With a veil covering his face.

All the nuptials went on, the vows were read and agreed to, and finally it was time for the two to kiss.

The minister then said to my daughter, "It is now time for you to kiss ...

"Um ... the bride!"

The veil went up and the two kissed, to such laughter, that certainly was not coming from me.

I recorded the entire ceremony in total disbelief, and I sure it will be deleted in good time.

Was it a legally officiated marriage? Who knows, who really knows, but I have my doubts.

Is she legally married? To this moment, I really don't know.

Seems like a sham to me ... .

So that was over, and as frigid as we were, we finally were allowed to go inside the hall.

And when the appropriate times came where I could have had my dreams fulfilled--a call-out to me being the father of the bride, a father/daughter dance, etc.--my expectations were met with a resounding thud!

Nothing ...

Just like I expected.

But what you expect is made all the worse when the expectations come out to be true, and they were true as true could be.

Nothing.

(Also, I know that someone and his girlfriend left and went home because they were thoroughly insulted by the wedding ceremony and the seating placement, where they were not seated with us as they should have been.)

I even had to chastise my new son-in-law for not coming over to my table to introduce himself formally to our group, which included my family, my sister and her husband, and my friend and his wife.

What happened is that I had to go to the bathroom, and I passed him and my daughter in the hallway.

"You know, it would be nice if you came to my table," I said to him, with the new groom still dressed in his bridal gown.

"Well, there are a lot of people here, and I have a lot of places to go," he said to me.

"I am your new father-in-law, and since I am that, I am telling you to come to my table."

Yes, they finally did, but it was too little, too late.

I was greatly frustrated by everything that was going on around me, and I proceeded to introduce myself to as many tables as I could as "the actual father of the bride."

Some of the attendees clearly were not interested, but others congratulated me, and one even shook my hand.

Somewhere in between, I asked the husband of my ex if I could speak to him for a moment, and we went out into the hallway.

He is a really nice guy, a real mensch, to be honest with you, and I started to tell him about what I was feeling, and he pretty much agreed with me, saying he was more traditional like I was, but this is what my daughter wanted, so what could he do about it?

Although I just wanted to speak with him, a small crowd gathered around us, and I said a few times that his was a private conversation between myself and him, not everyone else. I didn't do it in a nasty way, but it was really a conversation between the two of us, not a whole crowd.

One woman who gathered around us grabbed her husband and said out loud, "I guess we are not wanted around here!" and stormed away from the group, and others left in a huff, even though the guy I was speaking to and I really had a nice conversation, even with everyone around us who were uninvited.

Some people were quite nice. In addition to my ex's husband, my former sister in law came right up to me, and we spoke for like 10 minutes, just catching up on things. I had not seen here in more than 30 years, and she is still quite a nice lady.

The groom's sister came up to me, too, and she was pleasant. She even forced me to dance with her.

My daughter's mother was cordial to me, and I was cordial to her.

Finally, the food came out, and then the cake, and once I finished my cake, we were outta there, for the long trek home, which I navigated pretty well, even in the pitch-black dark.

But I had not said goodbye to my daughter, so I went back into the venue looking for her. I found her, and she gave me nothing but a hug, no kiss, no saying "drive carefully," no nothing. 

And no, she never asked how I was doing physically. 

It was like I interrupted her.

And then we were on our way home.

We had on some of my favorite music, and I was in a talking mood, hopped up from the six of seven sodas I had which I used to keep myself awake.

I spoke about a variety of topics in the car with my son and wife, and one was about the prevailing attitude I was getting about my daughter's generation.

So many people at this affair told me that I can't be stubborn, this generation just does everything in a different way, and that I had to be accepting of it because that is the way it is.

I told my wife and son on the way home, "We Baby Boomers have just gone so soft. We are being told to accept ineptitude and stupidity. I am being asked to accept the fact that I was simply a 'paying guest' at my own daughter's wedding.

"Nope, I don't accept it. I know right from wrong, and their attitude was just so wrong."

And right now, I simply feel the exact same way.

But this affair, this nonsense, this marriage that I have my doubts about being 100-percent legal, is the affair that keeps on giving.

It took us about 90 minutes to get home, and when we arrived, I had to change the clocks, because we gained an hour of sleep over the weekend.

I did that as best I could, and went to sleep, woke up on Sunday, got dressed ...

And found that there was a big wad of gum stuck to my shoes, obviously spat out by one of the wedding attendees, because since this was a Halloween-themed affair, candy goody bags were given out, and you guessed it, gum was part of the bags' contents.

I couldn't even get the gum off my shoes entirely, but I did the best job I could.

It will stand as a constant reminder of Fright Night 2026, October 31, 2026, Halloween.

But it is over.

Thank God.

I wished my daughter well through a text, and who knows when I will see her again.

Six months, a year ...

Who knows.

After all, I was simply "a paying guest" at her wedding.

Believe me, if I decided not to go, no one would have missed me at all.

Even my daughter.

But heck, my daughter looked happy, so I hope she beats the odds, and this "marriage," or whatever you want to call it, works out for her and her husband.

Rant #4,036: I'm a Happy Guy

Tomorrow is the big day!

My daughter is getting married tomorrow, on Halloween, and I will be a very proud father--

I guess.

My daughter is running her wedding the way she wants to, and I will not be acknowledged at all as the father of the bride at the event.

Nothing.

No announcement about who I am, no father-daughter dance, no speech--

No nothing.

So even though I had a beautiful speech written and all ready to go, it isn't going to happen, as per my daughter's orders.

I could make a scene and read to guests anyway, but I don't want to do that.

So what to do with the speech that I am forbidden to read?

Include it here as part of today's Blog entry.

Why not?

You guys and gals won't be at the wedding, so by posting it, I am keeping, to the letter, what my daughter wants me not to do, which is to not make a speech.

It is her wedding, it is her right to do what she wants to do--

I am simply a paying guest.

I even said I would send her a copy of the speech to review, but she rejected that, so she has no idea what was to be said in the speech.

You guys will see it first--

And last, because it won't be used at the wedding at all, due to my daughter's edict.

So without further ado, here is my speech that I had planned to make at my daughter's wedding, but due to my daughter's wishes, won't be making.

"How the years have passed, so very, very quickly.

I remember when Meredith was born, she had the absolutely darkest head of black hair that I had ever seen.

Due to various circumstances, she was put into the hospital’s ICU. I went in to see her, and she was in the middle unit, between two boys who were each the size of your fist.

Meredith was full sized, and looking at the two boys, I said to myself that she was going to make it.

And she did—and then some.

We are here to celebrate Meredith’s marriage to Ed, and I have just so many memories going in and out of my head at this moment.

I remember her main thing with me was “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” She just loved that show, and I bought her a large “Donatello” doll, which she brought with her every time I saw her—

Even when one of the legs fell off!

And we would talk about the Turtles endlessly, “Turtle” this, “Turtle” that, it was just so much fun!

Meredith also adored McDonald’s. I know, today she probably wouldn’t get within 100 yards of any of those restaurants, but back then, that was one of her things.

I took her to McDonald’s from Eastern Queens all the way to Eastern Long Island, and she loved it, and I loved taking her to these places.

In fact, one day, at the McDonald’s in Plainview, she got a piece of hamburger stuck in her throat, and I used the Heimlich Maneuver to get it out—

And it flew out like a bomb shot out of a cannon!

I remember her first day at school. I drove into Plainview to be there when she boarded the bus.

She looked so proud, so pretty, so happy to finally go to school like the big kids.

Through the years, Meredith got older, and yes, things changed a bit with our relationship, but my love for her never changed, in fact, it got stronger.

That all comes to today, a day when I am so proud of her as she enters holy matrimony.

And my love for her has never changed, in fact, it got stronger.

So let’s wish the newlyweds the best of the best, enormous happiness, and a long, long, fruitful marriage.

But as the father of the bride, I have to say that Meredith will always be my little girl, no matter what age she is.

And again, my love for her has never changed, in fact, it gets stronger by the year.

Good luck Meredith and Ed.

I wish you the best."

Have a great weekend, and I will speak to you again on Monday.

Rant #4,035: Try Too Hard

The countdown continues ...

Today, Friday and then, the big day on Saturday--

And then it will be all over.

I am looking at all of this as the father of the bride, and I have so many memories of my daughter that are running through my head as I write this up.

I remember the moment she was born, all the worry we had that she was sick, and the glee that I felt when I held her for the first time, and there was nothing wrong with her ...

She was absolutely PERFECT.

I was a dad for the first time, and I took the responsibility very seriously.

This little, beautiful imp needed my help, and I gave it to her, and gave it to her very proudly.

Things happened between myself and her mother, but I was there as much as I was permitted to be there, and I saw her as much as I possibly could, in spite of great interference by the other side.

I dealt with courts, schools and other institutions which decided that since I was the father--the man--that I was in the wrong as almost a birthright, and that I had to be on the defensive at all times.

Yes, things have changed now, but 30 some-odd years ago, that is what the overall situation was for divorced men with children, and even with joint custody, I was often the odd man out when it came to my daughter and just about every facet of her life.

I loved to see her, we had lots of fun doing so many different things, and during the days I did not see her, I had to call her on the phone, which certainly wasn't like it is today.

You know how people who have incontinence need to scout out places to make sure there is a bathroom nearby?

I had to scout out locations to make sure a phone booth or public phone was within reach.

My daughter grew up, she had her own friends and activities, and by the time she reached the teen years, she didn't want to be with me anymore, or at least to the extent that she wanted to be with me when she was younger.

I got it, I knew it was coming, but it still fell like a ton of bricks on me, and it hurt just as much.

So I didn't see her every other week, didn't speak to her on the phone that much, and by the time she got to college, that part of our relationship was pretty much over--

And it was never to be repaired.

Fast forward to today, and if I see my daughter once or twice a year, it is a lot, and it is on her side that this works out that way, not on mine.

I would love to at least speak to her on the phone maybe once a week, but it simply isn't happening.

As I have said before, I have no idea who her groom is, as I have met him a total of three times, under trying circumstances, like my mother's funeral.

We have invited the two of them over to the house, and now, to our apartment, on countless occasions, but they always seem to find an excuse to not come.

I always blame the whole thing on my daughter being "a child of divorce," but she isn't a child anymore, and I do think, at this point, that she should know better.

I love my daughter to pieces, but I don't know if she gets that.

What happened happened, and you can't harp on something that happened more than 30 years ago.

So I go to my daughter's wedding with both pride and trepidation.

Once bitten, twice shy ...

But you know that all these thoughts--and many others--will be swirling in my head when she and her beau say their "I do's."

"I don't" ...

Understand any of what has transpired over the past 30-plus years, but I am trying to understand ...

I really am.

And I wish my daughter and her soon-to-be husband the very best.