In the past several days some people I know have died. It's sad and sobering. It happens more often than in the past and in all likelihood it will increase exponentially before it happens to me.
Since I'm not a very emotional person I've gone about sending notes, and just doing what I need to do. Being thankful for these people having been in my life. Being pragmatic. Soldiering on. That's what I do.
Then two things happened. Tom Bosley died. I felt unusually sad. And I thought "This is crazy." But he's been a part of our lives since Happy Days and Murder She Wrote. And Dave and I saw him on the stage three years ago in On Golden Pond. We were in the first row. I loved seeing his wrinkly face up close. So, in a way, my unusual sadness made sense.
Then I saw in the paper this morning that Ed Hayes died. As some of you know, he's been a writer in central Florida forever. Since 1957 he's written sports, then a very popular column called Hushpuppies.
Since retirement he's written a syndicated column called Heydays. Very sweet and homey. I've often said to Dave, "Ed Hayes is my roll model. 86 years old, still has his marbles and is still writing."
Now he's gone. I never met Ed Hayes but I am beyond sad this morning.
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