Happy belated birthday, Herbie.

Yesterday would have been my father’s 96th birthday. I didn’t forget to mention it in my last post ... I just refused to deal with the grief that I only have three pictures of him — THREE! — all of which I’ve published before and I didn’t know if I wanted to bore you again with the same ones. Incidentally, if you want to know why I’m in this predicament it’s because my mother — a few years before she died and for reasons only known to her — THREW OUT EVERY FAMILY PHOTO THAT EVER EXISTED. Family vacations, my cousins’ bar mitzvahs, my grandparents, school events, my parents’ baby pictures, all of my baby pictures, you name it, they’re gone. And I didn’t find out until a month or two after mom passed away last year, when I asked my sister how we should divvy up all the family photos ... and she hit me with the truth bomb instead. I still cry every time I think about this. Even from the grave mom made me feel like garbage.

Please get in touch with me directly for additional details. (I’ll let you know if it’s none of your business.)

Nevertheless, here’s a happy belated birthday to Herbie, born July 13, 1920. The following photo is from my parents’s wedding in November 1942, and they’re posing in front of a sculpture of gigantic carousel horses in the lobby of the Belden Stratford Hotel in Chicago.

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And now ... THE MOST BORING WEATHER REPORT ON EARTH as evidenced by this screen shot of our one-week forecast from Weather.com. During the summer months every day is the pretty much the same here: HOT, STICKY AND SUNNY. A few days may be hotter and/or stickier, but either way this is why you’ll never see children running around outside or amusing themselves at the local playgrounds. Touching playground equipment in heat like this will cause third degree burns and every year we read about local kids who wind up in the emergency room for sitting on a metal swing that’s 175°. Jesus.

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I think this might be a fine time for drugs, a shower and a nap. I love my life ...