When I look back at this past winter and the weather that has followed, I’m struck by the fact that averages don’t really mean a thing. You would think that the temperatures would usually be at those averages with a few days slightly above and a few days slightly below. The same way with snowfall. Some years you would have a little more snow than average and some years a little less. But that’s not he way it works.

This past winter we had one of the highest snowfall totals on record. Why couldn’t it have been one of the lowest snowfalls on record? Can we expect next year to be one of those way below average years to make up for this one? Is there cause and effect? Was this the worst winter in recent memory because I chose to stay in Michigan for the first time since I retired? You know that I’m a typical accountant that expects everything to be in its place. Every day we should have the average high temperature in the afternoon and the average low temperature at night. We should expect the average number of rain days per year and we should expect the average number of inches of rain too. How can we function not knowing? I have had to change my life plan book (luckily I wrote it in pencil) several times just in the last few weeks. I’ll bet all of you have too.

I went to the U.P. this last weekend for a memorial service for one of our friends. Jean thought she would give me a gift before I left, so she passed on the upper respiratory infection she had been carrying around for a week or two. I told her I didn’t really need anything and gifts were not necessary, but she insisted. She knew it had been at least a month since my last cold and I was running out of things to whine about. I had thought of returning the favor by leaving things I had hacked up lying around in Kleenex all over the house, but then I thought that might send germ warfare to the next level. I’ll keep them to myself for now.

I saw my friend Ernie at the fitness center this morning. He also went to the memorial service and I sat next to him and Barb. At one point in the service, while Jack’s oldest daughter was speaking, she asked us to join hands. Ernie said he expected me to write an e-mail about the hand holding when I got back on Sunday. I hadn’t really thought about it. I wonder why he wanted everyone to know he held hands with a younger man. Was it his way of slowly coming out of the closet? If you know Ernie, it had to be a pretty big closet. And why wait until now? He’s around 70 years old and isn’t that the “who cares any more” age anyway?

After spending time at Jack’s service and time at Tom Strumberger’s father’s visitation, I should be able to come up with something really profound that makes everyone feel better. But that’s not happening. Having lost a father and older brother myself, you can hear all the platitudes of comfort and it still hurts. You can say things like “…he lived a full, rich life…” or “…it must have been his time…” but that doesn’t bring them back and you still miss them. So you “get along OK” by remembering the good times and the bad and how they affected your life. Your story…no one else’s…and you never forget how they made you, maybe a big part and maybe only a small part of you, what you are today…good, bad or otherwise. The only good thing is that you really find out who your friends are, that they’re hurting for you and would do anything to make your pain go away.

Just (Wanting The Weather To Fit The Training Schedule) Jack