An Interesting Day ...

(Ed's Note: the pics to the left represent the different looks I had for the day. Wedding. B-Day Party. Funeral.)

So if you read the last post, you know my day began with a funeral.

But it really started a few days back when Olathe North football coach Dave Bassore was killed (link to the story).

I already had a wedding of a co-worker scheduled, and a birthday outing for HN to attend after that.

The funeral almost completed the circle of life. All I needed to do was witness the birth of a child, which I won't be doing until I have one. Well, I can't leave out divorce.

The funeral was one of the best services I've ever attended. Funerals where no one expected the person to pass, i.e. they didn't die after age 70 in the hospital, tend to be the hardest. That wasn't the case with this one. Friends told great stories about Bassore like how he still got his haircut in Warrensburg, Mo., nearly an hour, 30 minutes away from KC, even after he left his coaching job at Central Missouri State. He thought only one person could clip his ends properly.

Ironically, enough. The guy was HN and AZ273's high school coach, so they were both there as well along with half of the football coaching community.
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Midday
A little work. Tell JLBD off for a second (read below). Run a mile. Figure out what to wear to this wedding because the grey suit, black dress shirt combo isn't going to work for the day's next event.
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Mr. and Ms. Sam Melly tied the knot at Club 1000. I know what you're thinking.

"What kind of self-respecting woman gets married in a club?"

We were all wondering the same thing. Thing is, this place actually was palacial and white as the freshly fallen snow in December. It was held in downtown Kansas City on the sixth floor of Club 1000 in the white room, which had an amazing view of the city skyline.

More importantly, though, you could tell Melly and Ms. Melly (formerly known as Ms. Jess) were ready for this plunge. Melly's been to enough wedding's in the last three years that he should be able to start his own wedding planner business. He was due. He's a quite, but observant dude. She's a rambunctious feisty woman. They compliment each other.

And they compliment there family and friends with an open bar. Yes, I was feeling it (the alcohol) by about 9p.m.
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Driving through mid-town Kansas City, you can actually realize how beautiful the city actually is. I love home. I realized this while driving to HN's for the night's final soiree.
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I get to HN's door, and see Lem and Courtney (damn, she looked good), two people I hadn't seen in forever. I gave Courtney two hugs (actually she insisted on the second one), and then HN, the birthday boy, came stumbling out the front door.

"My ass," he squirmed.

That only meant one thing. Them cats were trading, and no I'm not talking about baseball cards. Anyway, we left like two minutes later and headed to First Friday's. Kiyama Tisa was in 6/8ths effect. AZ273, Nocturnal Ice, Cold Flow, Avalanche, Mr. Freeze and Cool Breeze were all in the spot, and I must say it felt good to be around my boys.

First Fridays was cool. Same people you see pretty much every month, or any where you go. But it was nice to get out and be with my guys. There was only one thing that got to me a little.

When we first got there, we all seemed to migrate to the bathroom, alcohol does that to you. I came out and recognized that my Uncle Dale, one of my dad's best friend since he was like five) was taking "ghetto" party pictures, a side hustle of his.

I went and spoke. No biggie, right? Wrong.

"You know your dad is in here right," he said?

There was a brief silence as we both start looking for him.

"For real, I'll have to find him," I replied with a lump in my throat. It didn't take me long to find him, and walk in the other direction from that (insert your choice of names for a bad father/husband/person, I'm gonna be nice for a change).

But later in the evening, after a few more drinks to try to calm my nerves, we made eye contact, and he walked right up to me, since he was accidentally walking toward me, and spoke.

I asked him how he was. He said good, and that was about it. He walked away, and continued on with his life. No harm, no foul.

Then I had a messed up thought.

I wish this man were in that casket this morning instead of Bassore, who was a good father, friend and man.

Then I took it back.
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Q-Boogie called at about 2:30 AM, wanting to read a poem she wrote for some dude she met a few weeks back. I told her she was always writing some poem about some dude she was immediately infatuated with. We talked about all that's written above. I sobered up, and went to sleep.

My circle of life was complete, at least for one day.