I normally drink coffee, but occasionally I go on a tea binge, sometimes lasting for a couple of weeks. I filled my favorite teapot, one left to me by my grandmother, put it on the stove, and readied the bags for the telltale whistle.As soon as the kettle began to sing, I placed the bags in the water, killed the gas, hit the timer on the microwave, and said, in as pompous and English a voice as I could, "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot." I laughed silently at my cleverness.Yeah, I'm a wit.I'd just squeezed the last drops out of the bags and replaced the top on the kettle, when the doorbell announced a visitor.I opened the door. To my surprise, it was not a JW or a Girl Scout or some solicitor.It was Trudy, wife of my best friend Brad.Now, Brad and I had known one another since middle school; we'd attended separate colleges, but we'd been in one another's orbits for most of the time since we'd met. He'd married Trudy three years earlier; she'd known my wife Audrey, at least well enough to mourn. “How bad?”“It’s not clear. They said he’s going to undergo aggressive radiation treatment.”“Shit. I’ll have to ask Jess about that.”When Kara and I met Jessica at the hospital, I immediately asked her about it.“Survival rates are pretty good, and given he’s an athlete in generally good health, I’d say his chances are excellent. He may never play hockey again, though.”“That would suck,” I said. “But being alive is a bit more important than a hockey career.”“And a NASCAR career?” she asked.“Jess, don’t start, please,” I sighed. “You can’t compare the two things.”I was glad when she dropped the issue and our trio simply walked home hand-in-hand.January 15, 1993, Chicago, Illinois“A quiet week? How did THAT happen?” Elyse asked as we walked out of the building on Friday afternoon.“Other than the news about Lemieux’s cancer, it happens! Have you heard anything from Cindi or Charlie about hiring?”“Not beyond what was said at Monday’s staff meeting. They’re gathering candidates. I’m hoping.
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