Top 40 Lists

As I count down to 40, I don't want to dwell on the downside, but once in a while the passing of time gives me the blues. This winter, I’ve had to rally the troops. And by troops, I mean the endorphins in my brain. Those brave endorphin boys have been battling their hearts out while I wrap my head around being on this planet for almost four decades. Wowza. 

I have fun with it though. I can laugh at myself. It's just hard to find that right balance of comedy and drama in this life, ya know?

I look like a werewolf did it with a skeleton. I'm finding gray hairs in places that are terrifying. If this were the Middle Ages, I'd be dead by now. I'm so old I remember Atari and Anthony Michael freaking Hall. I mean, what the hell? It feels good to laugh about it.

Another way that I rallied the troops was by making these lists. It's kinda weird, but I enjoy messing around in a notebook, focusing on a list. My brain feels like it's just chilling on a nice round of Tetris or a word or puzzle game. The only downside to nerding out on a list is that I'm not using that time to work on stories/ actually get real shit done, in a literal sense, in the real world.

But like I said, I don't want to dwell on the downside.

So, fixating on these lists was a big win for my OCD. For God's sake, I scrutinized the exact order of a bunch of shit that doesn't really matter. But I know where to draw the line, and that's at Honorable Mentions. Picture me as a no-nonsense bouncer wagging my finger to Honorable Mentions tryna enter the club... Alright, that was fun.

Nick's OCD checking out these lists. 

Whoever reads this, I hope you get at least one recommendation that makes your life very slightly more worthwhile. (I mean, a lot more enjoyable would be nice but we gotta manage our expectations.) Best case scenario, my opinion has a positive impact. Which is another way of saying someone gives a shit.

In doing this project, I realized I want to read more books by women and watch more movies by black directors and, you know, grow as a human being and support the art made by people that are different from me. Don't get me wrong, I stand by my ridiculous lists 1,000%, but Holy White Dudes. Just, white dudes, everywhere. Many of them ranging in age from old to dead. The Babe Ruth New York Yankees of history.

It clicked that I have more to learn from women and people of color and so on. I think it's only gonna take a half-century for me to show those signs of growth. Fingers crossed, anyway.

These are the top 40s of my favorite bands, movies, books, and video games. Don't ask for Honorable Mentions cuz they've been bounced.

With a love that will echo through the ages,*

Nick

Bands/ Singers

40.) Foo Fighters

39.) Blur

38.) Outkast

37.) Prince

36.) Queen

35.) Black Sabbath

34.) Tame Impala

33.) Smashing Pumpkins

32.) Talking Heads

31.) Creedence Clearwater Revival 

30.) Neil Young 

29.) Bjork 

28.) Sheryl Crow

27.) Van Halen

26.) The Replacements

25.) Jawbreaker

24.) Rage Against the Machine

23.) Queens of the Stone Age

22.) Modest Mouse

21.) Johnny Cash

20.) Bob Dylan

19.) Mac Miller

18.) The Rolling Stones

17.) The Ramones

16.) Pearl Jam

15.) Pink Floyd

14.) The Strokes

13.) Cake

12.) The Clash

11.) The White Stripes

10.) Fiona Apple

9.) Spoon

8.) Jimi Hendrix

7.) Beastie Boys

6.) Nirvana 

5.) Led Zeppelin

4.) David Bowie

3.) Beck

2.) Radiohead

1.) The Beatles

Movies

40.) Silver Linings Playbook

39.) The Wrestler

38.) Stand by Me

37.) Aliens

36.) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

35.) Superbad

34.) Borat

33.) Scent of a Woman

32.) Austin Powers

31.) The Sixth Sense

30.) Terminator 2

29.) Office Space

28.) The Dark Knight

27.) The Prestige

26.) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

25.) Best in Show

24.) This Is Spinal Tap

23.) Night of the Hunter

22.) Shaun of the Dead

21.) Dumb and Dumber

20.) Naked Gun

19.) No Country for Old Men

18.) Die Hard

17.) Toy Story

16.) The Empire Strikes Back

15.) Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

14.) Fargo

13.) Kill Bill

12.) The Truman Show

11.) The Shining

10.) Napoleon Dynamite

9.) The Shawshank Redemption

8.) Jaws

7.) Alien

6.) Pulp Fiction

5.) Goodfellas 

4.) The Royal Tenenbaums

3.) The Big Lebowski

2.) The Godfather

1.) The Godfather part 2

Books

40.) Dream Team: Michael, Magic, Larry...- Jack McCallum

39.) The Universe in a Nutshell- Stephen Hawking

38.) When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?- George Carlin

37.) The Road- Cormac McCarthy

36.) Life- Keith Richards

35.) The Sirens of Titan- Kurt Vonnegut

34.) Siddhartha- Herman Hesse

33.) Black Dogs- Ian McEwan

32.) Eating the Dinosaur- Chuck Klosterman

31.) The Hunger Games- Suzanna Collins

30.) Of Mice and Men- John Steinbeck

29.) Catch 22- Joseph Heller

28.) Cat’s Cradle- KV

27.) Moneyball- Michael Lewis

26.) Me Talk Pretty One Day- David Sedaris

25.) The Godfather- Mario Puzo

24.) One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest- Ken Kesey

23.) Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72- Hunter S Thompson

22.) A Song of Ice and Fire: Game of Thrones- George RR Martin

21.) Based on a True Story- Norm MacDonald

20.) Animal Farm- George Orwell

19.) In Cold Blood- Truman Capote

18.) Winesburg, Ohio- Sherwood Anderson

17.) The Martian- Adam Weir

16.) Life of Pi- Yann Martel

15.) The Green Mile- Stephen King

14.) To Kill a Mockingbird- Harper Lee

13.) Lamb, the Gospel According to Biff- Christopher Moore

12.) The Giver- Lois Lowry

11.) The Catcher in the Rye- JDS 

10.) Omnibus- Roald Dahl

9.) Cathedral- Raymond Carver

8.) Different Seasons- Stephen King

7.) Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs- Chuck Klosterman

6.) Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas- Hunter S Thompson

5.) Nine Stories- JD Salinger

4.) The Great Gatspy- F Scott Fitzgerald

3.) Slaughterhouse 5- KV

2.) Mother Night- Kurt Vonnegut

1.) East of Eden- John  Steinbeck

Video Games

(Oh no, he's writing again.)

Getting back to the matter of growth, I'm a sucker when it comes to the nostalgia of video games. I'm just an old soul with an old school Nintendo. The question is, is nostalgia compatible with growth? And well, I think a little bit of admiration-for-the past is OK, but it's more important to take a leap of faith into uncharted adventures. My note to self goes like this: play some newer shit for the top 50. I realize that games in 2023 are skull-crushingly awesome, it's just that I could legit play these 40 games forever.

40.) Castlevania- Nintendo

39.) NBA Live '95- Super Nintendo

38.) Perfect Dark- Nintendo 64

37.) X-Men Legends II: Rise of Apocalypse- Playstation 2

36.) Return of the Jedi- SNES

35.) Super Smash Bros- N64

34.) Overwatch- Playstation 4

33.) TMNT Arcade Game- Nintendo

32.) Castlevania IV- SNES

31.) Earthbound- SNES

30.) Super Metroid- SNES

29.) Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Turtles in Time- SNES

28.) Legend of Zelda- NES

27.) Castlevania: Symphony of the Night- Playstation

26.) Silent Hill- PS1

25.) Super Punchout- SNES

24.) Street Fighter II Turbo- SNES

23.) Metal Gear Solid: Sons of Liberty- PS2

22.) Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time- N64

21.) Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past- SNES

20.) Resident Evil- PS1

19.) Grand Theft Auto: Vice City- PS2

18.) Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest- SNES

17.) Starfox 64- N64

16.) Goldeneye 007- N64

15.) Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3- PS2

14.) Super Mario All Stars- SNES

13.) Madden ‘10- PS2

12.) Ken Griffey Jr. Presents Major League Baseball- SNES

11.) X-Men 2: The Clone Wars- Sega

10.) Resident Evil 2- PS1

9.) Super Mario World- SNES

8.) Mariokart 64- N64

7.) Zombies Ate My Neighbors- SNES

6.) WWF No Mercy- N64

5.) NBA Jam- SNES

4.) Donkey Kong Country- SNES

3.) Super Mario 64- N64

2.) Tecmo Super Bowl-NES

1.) Resident Evil 4- PS2/ Gamecube

*Homer says that on The Simpsons.

Elevator Ride with Bobcat

Looking back at 2022, I realized I never put in writing one of the highlights. In early June, I went with three friends to the Skyline Comedy Cafe in Appleton. That evening we rode in the elevator with Bobcat Goldthwait.

For some background on Bobcat Goldthwait (the “th” in his surname is silent), he rose to fame in the early ‘80s as a rowdy alternative comic who spoke in bursts of wild screeches. His strange and feisty persona led to movie roles in the Police Academy franchise and Scrooged. (One of my favorite Christmas movies.)   

In recent years, the man has dropped the neurotic howls and evolved into what he does best. He shares hilarious tales from his extraordinary life. And he does so in a sincere, bemused voice that’s not some insane character. 

Bobcat was nearly attacked by killer sharks while snorkeling with his dear friend Robin Williams. He opened shows for Nirvana after Nevermind blew up. At the United Center in Chicago, he incensed the crowd with a wicked joke about the passing of Michael Jordan’s father. For his safety, security had to smuggle him past livid Chicagoans out of the arena inside of luggage. He set furniture on fire on the set of The Tonight Show. Bobcat caused, savored, and retold so much hysterical mayhem. 

At first, I was not psyched about the show. That Saturday my mental health made me feel unadventurous. Missing an evening with Bobcat Goldthwait seemed acceptable. My friends had to do some convincing to get me to go. I’m glad they did. 

The way it went down was like something out of a dream. As our group of four walked through the back lot to the entrance, we crossed paths with someone who made me do a double-take. I was surprised but I took it in stride. It was none other than Bobcat Goldthwait himself. 

Standing at about 5-foot-6 with a slim build, he kept a brisk pace. He wore glasses and a quirky grin. He looked something like this:

That’s how he was dressed on Friday night at Skyline, anyway. We saw him on a Saturday. The porkpie hat and geek-stylish glasses made him stand out. 

What could I say?

“Hello, Bobcat Goldthwait!” I said cheerfully. 

Simple enough. No regrets there.

We were so close that I was able to hold the door open for the headliner. He chuckled and nodded at the gesture. A few other folks in the lobby happily buzzed about the Bobcat sighting. 

“Thanks,” Bobcat said. We stopped at the elevator. Bobcat kept going to the staircase at the far end of the lobby. “Everybody, thanks for coming!” he called out.  

“Well, thanks for being funny,” I replied. 

It was a nice exchange. Someone from another group pressed the button for the elevator. Their group of four joined in on our Bobcat chatter.

“Whoa, that was him.” 

“Can you believe it?” 

“He walks into places! Just like a regular guy.” 

By this point, I had no regrets about leaving the couch at home for an adventure. The elevator dinged and we went inside. The ride up lasted only a floor. The doors spread open on the second floor. Someone was waiting. It was Bobcat Goldthwait. 

Skyline shares the historic Between the Locks building with the Stone Arch Bar and Restaurant among other spots, and the club’s signature quirk is that it can only be accessed by an elevator ride to the fifth floor. The staircase Bobcat went up stops at the second floor. Bobcat would later describe the place as “Anne Frank’s Comedy Attic.”

We exchanged funny looks with Bobcat. His blue eyes flickered behind his glasses. Dimples formed on his cheeks. He grinned at the way life had so generously given him a bit. 

  

We were stunned for a split second before we laughed at the reveal of Bobcat. He dove into the social embarrassment with comic grace.  

I said, “Hello again, Bobcat Goldthwait.” 

“Hey, guys,” he nodded. He stepped inside and stood in the corner. 

“You gotta ride the elevator to go all the way up,” someone explained. 

“Yeah, actually, they’re making me do my set in this elevator,” he joked. 

The tiny space filled with laughter. He was cracking us up before he even took the stage. He went on.

“No, really, tonight I have to be the elevator guy. Plus the comedian. And do a few other odd jobs.” 

Max spoke up, boldly going along with Bobcat. 

“Yeah, there’s a spill in the lobby if you want to clean that up later.”

We laughed some more. I made eye contact with Bobcat. I found out later that he noticed my shirt. It showed the Nirvana logo of a smiley face with X’d out eyes, with a rainbow bending around it. 

The ride stopped on the fifth floor. The doors spread open and we cheerfully parted ways with the comic. It was the most fulfilling elevator ride of my life–a fleeting, charming wink from the universe. 

As for my shirt, it was recalled midway through Bobcat’s set. To lead into his story about opening for Nirvana and almost inciting a beating from angry fans, Bobcat said, “Earlier tonight I saw a young man in a Nirvana shirt, which reminds me…”

Wow. Just, holy shit wow. Not only did I help Bobcat with a segue, but he referred to my boney 39-year-old ass self as a “young man.” Oh, Bobcat. What a charmer! Sitting at our table, my friends excitedly turned to me. 

“He means you!”  

My chest swelled with pride. I was probably blushing beneath my beard. I might as well have waved at Bobcat with a handkerchief and tittered, “Flattery will get you everywhere, good sir.” 

In what was a heart-wrenching year in some aspects, I wanted to take some time to document what a great experience this was. On the drive back to Fond du Lac that night, we were still abuzz with comic joy. We nerded out repeating all our favorite Bobcat bits,

This is the last part of the story I want to get across. When I begrudgingly sent a text to confirm that I’d go along to Skyline even though I wasn’t feeling the greatest (because I can be a moody, too-shy wiener boy), I went to my closet to decide on a shirt. The reason I chose the one I did was because I vaguely recalled seeing a YouTube clip or passage in a book or something that Bobcat Goldthwait had a connection to one of my favorite bands. 

Hours later, when the star of the show recalled my shirt, it clicked that something positive had manifested because of my actions and choices. And if I can summon the will to get out of bed in the morning, and work up the courage to leave the house, I’m capable of not only having an adventure, but impacting that adventure and everyone in it in a productive way.

 

Replacing Words with 'Ass'

 

I don't want to oversell this one. By that, I mean it's up there with the dumbest ideas I've had recently. Possibly ever. But here goes: I'm gonna take some album titles and change the last word to "Ass." 

If I'm gonna force myself into an optimistic take on this one: it's not actually dumb, it's cheeky. 

Pink Floyd- Dark Side of the Ass / The Piper at the Gates of Ass / Wish You Were Ass

Guns 'n' Roses- Appetite for Ass

Beck- One Foot in the Ass / Midnite Ass

I want to state a late disclaimer. I'm not trying to disrespect any of the great artists listed here, or cause indignation for anyone, for that matter. I'm not trying to make an anti-ass statement in my own art. The reality is that I just had a super dumb idea, and here's more of it. 

Weezer- Everything Will be Alright in the Ass

The White Stripes- Get Behind Me Ass / Icky Ass

The Clash- Give 'em Enough Ass

Radiohead- Hail to the Ass

For those of you with human decency, I'd like to give you the good news that we're almost done here. Only seven more to go. Enjoy, and then pray for me. Pray that I may see the error of my ways and come up with something better next time. Because Goddammit, I'm doing something pretty stupid here. 

Janet Jackson- The Velvet Ass

Modest Mouse- The Lonesome Crowded Ass

The Strokes- Is This Ass? / First Impressions of Ass

Beastie Boys- Check Your Ass / Hello Ass

Fiona Apple- When the pawn hits the conflicts he thinks like a king what he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight and he'll win the whole thing 'fore he enters the ring there's nobody to batter when your mind is your might so when you go solo, you hold your own hand and remember that depth is the greatest of heights and if you know where you stand, then you know where to land and if you fall it won't matter, cuz you'll know that you're Ass. 

*Missing words: Moon, Dawn, Destruction, Grave, Vultures, End, Satan, Thump, Rope, Thief, Rope, West, It, Earth, Head, Nasty, Right.  

 

Frodos

 I have not been writing enough as of late, so I'm trying to do that now. This is the big "no more putting it off" moment. I sure hope it works, dammit. 

Some of my grouchy or aimless traits see more light of day when I'm in a dormant phase. My mind races a lot. Whether it's any good or not, there's usually content swirling around in my dome. Sometimes I show it to others. "What do you think of this space junk?" 

So here goes. I'll give this a half hour-ish and maybe it'll be worthwhile. 

A while back I watched a YouTube video about Nirvana. A musician from the Seattle scene who crossed paths with the band in the early '90s made a comparison between Nirvana and the Lord of the Rings. It hit home. 

He said that Kurt Cobain needed bassist Krist Novoselic in the same way that Frodo needed Sam. In order to accomplish that ultimate goal, whether it was becoming the best band on the planet for a year or 2 or taking the One Ring to destroy it in the volcano in Mordor, the special, chosen one required a best friend to believe in them. Kurt and Frodo were the prodigies, the gifted oddities who were like unicorns of humanity (or in Frodo's case, uh, hobbitanity?). But they were helpless without the dedication of their not-as-special best friends. A regular guy like Krist and an average Hobbit like Sam had no chance of becoming a rock music legend or saving Middle Earth on their own, but the same could be said of the unicorns, the chosen ones. They have pure hearts. They're sensitive. They can amplify a far-off whisper from God or the Devil so that the rest of us can hear it. They can change the world. They can also break like glass. 

Seeing this Frodo/ Sam dynamic in real life stuck with me for months, until I connected the dots to a relationship I was in that ultimately didn't work out. I am the one who wanted it to work out more, and I think that makes it hurt more. 

But another way to look at the breakup has occurred to me. Maybe it didn't work out because we were both Frodo types. Two Frodos (or two Sams) can't reach that ultimate goal together. The balance is essential. And it's just hard to find that balance between 2 people with extreme traits. (In my case, it is extreme awkwardness redeemed only by extreme blue eyes and beard.) 

And that's another mental trick I'm trying to realize to feel more at peace. She needs a Sam, not another Frodo. And I will no doubt overthink it and make it weird the next time I meet a Samantha.   

Learning

Losing a loved one has taught me that if I can get through this, I can get through anything. Every other struggle I've faced or will ever face is easier by comparison. It takes strength to endure grief and not let it stop me from getting shit done. I can laugh at all the trivial challenges that are nothing compared to trying to feed my dad a pain pill he wouldn't take because it turns out his heartbeat and breathing had stopped. I've been fighting past that successfully for the last 8 months, so you can bring on another rejection notice and one more night alone. These little problems won't be death by a thousand papercuts for me. Now I know I can survive worse than that. I survived something like a dagger and I'm still here, mf'ers. 

At the same time, death is permanent in a way that the other struggles are not. Feeling crushed by mental illness, losing a job with no clue what to do next, loving someone and getting dumped in a text--these have been impermanent problems. Death doesn't merely last a long time, it's forever. All the other problems seem temporary by comparison. I could try to solve the other problems by scheduling an appointment with the doctor or search for a new job I might even like more or ask another girl if she'll go out with me. I can try again if those answers fail. But I'll never have another dad. I'll never see him or watch a ballgame with him or hug him on Christmas Day ever again. Nothing can be done about the permanence of death. No amount of hard work, talent, patience, or belief can solve the rather large problem. 

Seeing both sides, it's like anything else at the core--it's a choice. I know there is truth in both perspectives. In order for me to be at my best, I need to focus more on the positive outlook. 

Dreams about Dad

In the first dream I had about dad, I was a teenager throwing a party with my folks out of town. My parents came home early. I watched the car pull into the garage. I slammed the door to the garage in a fit of panic. My friends scattered and bolted out of there, leaving their bottles behind. I retreated to the farthest end of the room, about to get busted.

My mom stayed in the garage. Dad entered with a forlorn look on his face. He was wearing a hairpiece that made me cringe. It looked so phony, with mismatched colors—a black nest atop a silver crown. It was the sort of thing he’d refuse to wear when he was alive.

We both knew this scene was all wrong. I was in my late 30s and he was gone. He didn’t bother scolding me. What’s the point?

Sometimes we could laugh about the dark side, but not this time. I woke up with what felt like a stomp to the chest. In the morning gloom I was painfully alone. It was a cosmic FU to a grieving son.

At the dinner after dad’s funeral, my friend Jim had told me I could contact him anytime I wanted to discuss this new wound in my heart. He’s taught me that the burden of grief is a little less when we share it. Jim has lost a few loved ones, going back many years. I described that dream to him in a message.

“I see a connection to my own dreams,” he said. “We are always back at our shared childhood home or somewhere familiar like grandma’s. But we’re all our current or final ages. You are seeing your dad in a different way now. And you are like.. Whoa! Dream-related emotional unpacking is fucked.”

“The hardest part,” I replied, “Is having no control over it.”

“Yeah, the dreams can be the worst,” he responded. “When you dream that everything is back to normal and everyone is happy. Then you wake up, realize it was a dream, and the nightmare begins. I call them reverse nightmares.”

In the second dream, dad gathered the family in the living room. We knew he was sick and getting worse, but he tried to show us he still had some strength. Beside the window, he opened the blinds with a tug of the rope. Light poured in after his dubious proof of strength.

“See?” he said with a thin sarcastic smile.

The sequel was an upgrade over the original. My dreams about dad improved from hopeless to underwhelming. I got more guidance from Jim.

“The dreams are your brain’s way of dealing with complex emotions,“ he said. “The way I look at it now is that in my dreams I’m able to hang around with people I miss, even if it’s in a wonky environment or situation. They’re bittersweet. I used to feel like my dreams were haunted. But now I think of them as a blessing.”

This was a more uplifting message than the one about reverse nightmares. I wanted to feel that blessing in my intangible mind. I wanted to see my dad the only way I could.

In my sleep, dad materialized and told me he was browsing online for a new car. I sighed and reminded him that, under the circumstances, there was no need for him to do that.

A week later I was rushing back from the fridge to hand him a beer as he sat on the couch. I was eager to please, but he looked at the can nonplussed. He told me he likes a different brand.

“Which one?” I asked.

“Well, Nick… It doesn’t matter,” he said. And you know why.

These were not the deep connections my heart wanted. My subconscious was acting like a punk. But I had to sleep every night. It was easy to keep trying to see him in a way that felt special. Not cheap. I knew he had the power to use his love like a form of magic, even now. Maybe especially now.

In the last dream I had about dad, I was driving home from work. It was the same route I took to get home from my old job at the call center in Neenah. I had to pull over because, farther down Tayco Street, the road was flooded. A trail of cars was stopped before the glimmering pool of water. With no way to bypass the flooded road, I parked in the lot outside a bar to figure out my next move. I went inside to get a beer to help me unwind.

My friend David sat at the bar. I took the stool next to him. As it happens, David lost his dad several years ago. When I asked him about the flood down the road, he shrugged his shoulders and stared at me with comic exaggeration. Cosmic mystery, he said without speaking. He too had no clue about the flood. So we sipped our beers and cracked each other up, talking nonsense as we do.

Then I heard a voice let out a high-pitched call: “Aaaahhhhaaaahhhh.” It sounded silly yet triumphant. I knew it to be the sound made when the pearly gates open in heaven, as it does in a movie or cartoon.

That was how dad made me turn my head. He grinned to reveal his front teeth and the dimples in his cheeks. His blue eyes squinted and shined beneath his Brewers hat. He strolled over to me with swagger and sweetness. Baggy gray sweatshirt, loose blue jeans, white New Balance shoes. In an instant, elation ran through my body. This wasn’t a knockoff or cruel parody. This was Bill! I felt the pure joy of the man’s authenticity.

In response to his heavenly sound effect, I said, “I bet you’re making that noise a lot these days.”

He leaned in and hugged me. I was happy to hug him back. (I learned later that I had wrapped my arms around a pillow and squeeeeeezed.)

“How are you?” he said.

Tears began to stream.

“I’m OK, dad,” I said. That was partially a lie, as it always is. A moment later, I added, “I miss you so much.” That was all true.

“Ohh… I miss you too, son,” he said.

We cried for joy and melancholy and held on to each other a few more seconds. I woke up with a blink feeling replenished and clean. It was 5:30 in the morning and I’d never started a day so perfectly. I stopped squeezing my pillow and started raining tears on it. I grabbed my phone right away and wrote a note to sum it up.

Dad was unable to speak on his last day. The pain the cancer brought got so all-consuming that he could moan in agony and nothing more. I said “I love you” enough times to embarrass the man, but I didn’t care. It hurt that he couldn’t say it back.

The most convincing case for the existence of heaven came to me in my last dream about dad. It was a feeling that I could never put into words, and I’m at peace with that. It might sound corny or cliched, but I don’t care.

My dad said goodbye to me the only way he could.

Socks

Going to Fleet Farm today 

reminded me of the way

my dad used to buy me socks

when he saw they were on sale there.  

And apparently 

socks were on sale at Fleet 

constantly. 

So, I built a ridiculous surplus of socks

thanks to Bill. 

My dresser drawer is very

very well-stocked with socks. 

I never had the heart to say,

“Dude, enough with the socks!” 

Looking back

I think “I got you socks” 

was code for 

“I love you.”

…

I got you socks too, dad.