Tag Archive: Father

Did you ever get one of those phone calls? You know, when you just KNOW it’s bad news, either by the tone of their voice, or their rate of speech, or how they seem to be measuring their words. I got one of those phone calls today. From my Dad, about his brother.

Not that I’m very close to my uncle, after all I’m not that close to my father, but they are family so I feel something, just haven’t figured it out yet.

It’s raining men!

No not really.

I sent that to set the date on the blog. I’m sneaky that way.

The walk from my office to the subway is usually uneventful. Walk down the sidewalk, wait for the light cross six lanes of traffic, try not to get run over. Today as I was approaching the intersection, an unmarked police car made a u-turn and pulled a car over, the police car pulled up very close to the other car, almost touching its bumper. I didn’t think anything of it, nothing unusual, right?

As I crossed the street I suddenly thought, “Unmarked police cars aren’t supposed to make routine traffic stops. Are they?” I glanced over at the cars, the pulled over car’s trunk was open and the police officers were looking in it. I was torn between wondering if I could sneak close enough to see if there was a body in the trunk, and just running to the subway. I didn’t run, but I kept walking to the subway.

Then on the train my phone rang. I didn’t answer it because I didn’t recognize the number. It was my dad. World’s Worst Daughter.

That’s all, says she.