My Month of Reckoning

I can’t help but count the month of August as special. It is in August that I get to celebrate my dad’s birthday—he’s 80 this go-round, for those counting the festive balloons at home.

It is August during which I mark my wedding anniversary. Indeed, 31 years ago the lovely former Susan Richtman chose to say “I do” rather than “Wait, what am I getting myself into?!,” thus spawning the most meaningful relationship—and friendship—I’ve ever known.

This August, I get to welcome my first grandchild. The sonograms said it will be a grandson. I sorely hope they were correct, given that I’ve already purchased him a baseball glove and have all but broken it in, in anticipation of the moment we get to have our first catch.
 

AND IT WAS AUGUST ...
August 2, 2006 to be exact, that changed the way I view life forever. Some of you know the story—I’m sure I’ve told it enough. I had been wrestling with a toothache for several days, had in fact gone to a doctor during the preceding weekend to get antibiotics in an attempt to stave off the infection long enough to get to a dentist the following week.

     And then ...

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