It's Christmastime in New York City.  With the pandemic "over" all the tourists are back, coming from all over the country and other countries to see the tree at Rock Center, go to a Broadway show and dine at all the big restaurants in town.  A few hotels (like the Four Seasons) and some hotspots (like the 21 Club) are still closed.  

It's been nearly five years since Dad passed away and 8 years since Mom left us.  Time heals all wounds they say, and while it does not hurt as much that they're gone it's still painful to deal with.  I think of them often, usually when I instinctively reach for the phone to call them when something happens that I know that they would love to see (grandkids being cute for example).  Or when I think of some memory and want to hear them either confirm it or embellish it with their own recollections (like the alligator in the pond by that hotel in Sanibel where we stayed in 1976).  So many things rattling around in my head and almost all of them are connected to Rachel and Joe Stewart.  Sigh.  

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this blog but I will try to keep it up.  Maybe a Tuba Skinny concert will come through NY and I'll cover it here.  I can share my Air Force stories as well -- I think I enjoyed my time in the service much more than Dad did his service.  Not that hard since he hated the whole experience.  

I'm still searching for Bill McKenzie, one of Dad's friends who was quite an incredible character.  He would work in a hotel in DC for a few months or years and then light out for some far flung location for a few years, living off his savings.  I think he lived in Mumbai (Bombay) in the 70s or 80s.  And then in Mexico for extended periods.  A postcard from Bill arrived at the old family house in Arlington VA after Dad had passed way, but there was no return address.  I can't find him in Dad's emails so it's hard to figure out how to contact him.  I'm not even that sure how to spell his last name.