75

Seventy-five years ago today, my father William M. Homan was born in Cedar Rapids Nebraska. He hasn't been doing too well lately. A few months ago he was diagnosed with several types of cancer, and he has additional problems with his lungs. I usually talk to him on the phone every other day. About an hour ago, I called him to wish him a happy birthday. He thought his birthday was tomorrow, but checked his calendar, and agreed that today is his 75th birthday. I wish I could be with him today to commemorate his life. At my age of 40, 75 years sounds like a long time, but I'm sure when I'm 75 I'll feel differently. He said that yesterday he got in another automobile accident, this one minor. He really shouldn't be driving. I wish I could spend more time with him. New Orleans is very far from Nebraska. For the past few years we've offered him a room in our house. But the humidity here in New Orleans would make it hard for his breathing, and all the problems we face after Katrina make the move difficult. Hell, just yesterday the governor sent in the National Guard in an effort to fight lawlessness. And electricity is not reliable, and he would require air conditioning and his breathing treatments. And once Allstate realizes they are screwing us and they pay us what we're owed, we'll have to leave our house for a few months and let some engineers lift the house, straighten the walls, gut the house, and put it all together again. Plus what would he do if the city flooded again? We're trying to figure out a way that he could come down for a few days to see how it goes. I have a short two-week break at the end of August, so either I'll fly or drive to Nebraska, fly or drive to New Orleans, and then take him back to Nebraska, and return home totally exhausted. But for now, for today, here's to you dad. I love you.