I never noticed until I started to blog this morning that the letters directly behind my name in my blog title are "LES." As soon as I realized that, I lost it. Again. I'm still trying to process the weekend.
I changed my ringtone to the Beatles' Yellow Submarine this morning. We -- all 1,700 people who attended -- sang this song at Les' funeral, at his request. I think he thought he'd get quite a laugh at everyone's expense, looking down on us from heaven as we sang this goofy tune.
It's now my favorite song.
I brought my first media writing book, the one I happened across last week when packing for the trip home to Les' services, to work with me this morning. It now sits on my desk, nestled between my Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary and The Chicago Manual of Style.
I stuck my pens and pencils in a new holder this morning -- a Wichita State University Alumni mug, in Les' honor.
These are my ways of coping. I always took for granted that whenever I needed him, he was only a phone call or e-mail away. I need these reminders of him nearby for comfort. However, as I told some people on Saturday, I thought about Les every day long before he left us.
'Don't be maudlin, AP.' I can almost imagine his warning scratched in the margins of my writing. 'Cut me some slack, Anderson,' I want to reply.
Maybe I'll tone down the tear-stained sentimentality on the rewrite.
I changed my ringtone to the Beatles' Yellow Submarine this morning. We -- all 1,700 people who attended -- sang this song at Les' funeral, at his request. I think he thought he'd get quite a laugh at everyone's expense, looking down on us from heaven as we sang this goofy tune.
It's now my favorite song.
I brought my first media writing book, the one I happened across last week when packing for the trip home to Les' services, to work with me this morning. It now sits on my desk, nestled between my Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary and The Chicago Manual of Style.
I stuck my pens and pencils in a new holder this morning -- a Wichita State University Alumni mug, in Les' honor.
These are my ways of coping. I always took for granted that whenever I needed him, he was only a phone call or e-mail away. I need these reminders of him nearby for comfort. However, as I told some people on Saturday, I thought about Les every day long before he left us.
'Don't be maudlin, AP.' I can almost imagine his warning scratched in the margins of my writing. 'Cut me some slack, Anderson,' I want to reply.
Maybe I'll tone down the tear-stained sentimentality on the rewrite.
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