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Polymorphism

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Lucy called me last night, to tell me that the orchid we got for her made it through it's staying-on-the-front-porch-overnight odyssey.  Since it was cold but not freezing, I knew that the odds were that it would be fine - the plant info said that orchids are comfortable in lower temperatures than are humans - but I was still concerned, and glad to hear that she received it intact.

She talked about how the family was doing, and also told me about many of the people who'd come to the funeral and the wake, and all the good things they had to say about Buddy. He clearly had no idea how he influenced people. I suppose none of us really know how we affect this world.

She told me that he would talk to her, about us, say that he meant to reach out to us, but just never got around to it.  Damn it, Buddy...

She said something that Joe Sr. had already told me at the post-funeral luncheon - that Buddy called a bunch of people, out of the blue, the night he died.  I so wish I'd made that list.


Lucy-Mom and I talked for seven minutes.  It was an eternity.
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