Winging to a Fault

Yesterday was uber-hectic as I spent the entire day in close quarters with the union leadership as we negotiate the next contract. We’ve come light years since I first arrived here ten years ago when every management – union interaction was adversarial. Most of that credit goes to my excellent boss who has truly changed the culture but also the union leadership which bravely left a lot of their old useless attitudes behind. Of course it didn’t hurt when one of the union agitators (and a true sociopath) was locked up for twenty years for multiple rapes.

Son in Law AKA Wingman AKA Birthday Boy Holding up Belt Earlier this Week

While all this was going on I snuck out for periodic emails and phone calls with my lawyer as we are down to the nuts and bolts of the sales agreement on the house. Now I just need to finalize the lease of the Worcester house so all this packing won’t go for naught. I made a list of all the businesses and utilities I have to call to arrange the address change. Somehow this all seemed easier when I was doing it every couple years while moving around with the Army – I must be out of shape.

Some Photos From my Son's Wedding Last year Featuring Wingman

The big event yesterday was the birthday of my awesome and completely spectacular, favorite son in law. I am expressly forbidden by his wife from repeating the joke I made when they first got together, something along the lines of “every father’s dream, to have his daughter dating a rock musician”, so I won’t go there. I will reveal that getting to know this fine young man over the past years have made me a fan of his and it has absolutely nothing to do with his music (considering my musical acumen – a good thing). It has everything to do with the quality of his character.

He’s uniformly kind to everyone he meets and never descends into the rock star mentality. I love just hanging out with him and shooting the breeze and it has nothing to do with his fondness for beer (well maybe a little). He’s my Wingman in every sense of the word because I would trust him with my life and I trust him with something I hold even dearer than my tenuous grip on the mortal coil – my daughter. He’s getting ready to become a father in his own right later this year and I know he’s excited beyond words along with the normal trepidation involved in first time parenting. He shouldn’t worry because he is going to be a remarkable father and my future grandkid is lucky to the point of being blessed with its parentage. I love him like a son.

Next to my Wingman

I do have one bone to pick with him though and that’s traipsing off to the left coast along with my daughter. I know they’re happy there but my concern went into overdrive last night after seeing San Andreas. It’s your typical summer popcorn disaster opus with the Rock rescuing everyone in sight as California is rocked by the mother of all earthquakes and tidal waves. Film technology has progressed to the point that the disaster scenes are all too realistic, especially when my daughter lives in L.A.

You have to park your sensibility at the door for this type disaster flick which delivers on all expected fronts although the Rock shouldn’t waste so much time trying to put his marriage back together as skyscrapers are falling around him. One “message” from the film seemed to be that survival is predicated on ample cleavage, which Carla Gugino and Alexandra Daddario amply deliver. So a lot of scary escapist fun; now to talk to the birthday boy about moving back east.