Here’s to good friends

I’ve got a confession to make. I’ve been distracted from my job this week. My mind has been into my family’s search for a house. It’s a little odd, really, how easy it is for me unthinkingly to get through life when the people around me are more than competent. Still, if there’s a name misspelled, an old phone number or an unacceptable comma splice, you know where the buck stops. I’ll look forward to your calls.

I don’t imagine I would have been as appreciative of my friends, business associates and colleagues if Reno hadn’t lost two eminent journalists last week—Travis Linn and Guy Richardson. I had met both, but knew neither. Still, these deaths made for strange phrases around the office, like, “If I die tomorrow …” It’s to my regret that I sought out neither of these men.

And so people come into and leave my life, all while I’m just doing it, not paying attention to anything. Jerry Morrissey, my real estate agent, got Kathleen and me into the exact sort of house we were looking for with a minimum amount of difficulty. He got us through the negotiation process, too. Since a different agent owns the house we landed on, negotiations were more complicated than I expected.

Is it lame to get mawkish when I’m not leaving or saying farewell to a close friend? If it is, I’ve got nothing to lose. These aren’t all the people who gave my life flavor this week, just the ones who’ve come into my mind this moment.

Anyway, thanks for the fun cover story, Bob. Thanks, Deidre, Carli, Miranda and the two Daves, David Jayne and David Robert. Thanks Bob and John. Thanks Amy, Danny and Hunter. Thanks, honey. Thanks to the writers who got their stories in on time. Thanks to the sales staff who give us the canvas to paint our pictures on. Thanks to the women who bought our house the first day it was up for sale. Finally, thanks to you for not putting the paper back on the rack after reading my maudlin meanderings.