So I’m in Chicago (Palatine, actually) where my father is in his last days.  Please pray for Alvin Wilcox and for his family.  It never rains, but it pours.  Actually, it’s raining here these days – though not pouring.  That seems to be the metaphorical pouring that’s wiping out my ability to feel.  Not to pray, mind you, that’s a constant.  But feeling – I’m putting that on hold for a bit. 

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