Remembering. . . .

Some memories fade into the background. Other memories are sharp and clear . . . even down to the tiniest details.

I remember walking into my office on Sept. 11 and being met by Beth who told me that a plane had crashed into the WTC. I remember standing for hours in the back conference room with the rest of my co-workers watching in horror for the rest of the day. I remember that our boss came to check in periodically but never once made any of us feel like we needed to do anything other than stand there and watch that screen.

In other vivid memories - a few years before that - a group of my girlfriends took a trip to New Orleans. We detoured for a couple of days to Beth's parents' home. Her dad fried fish in his carport for us - and by carport I mean - a covered area with a full-fledged kitchen which happened to have room to also park a car - unless there were a bunch of tables set up for fish eating. The next morning he got us all up and took us out in his fishing boat down the bayou to look for alligators. We ended up docking at Fred's bar at 10 am for beer.

Why am I talking about these good times in Louisiana today? I found out a couple of days ago that Beth's dad had an accident and passed away. And so. . . . today I am flooded with memories. . . .