OK…I KNOW that right off the top, many of you think that I misspelled reckoning. But, I didn’t…because I chose to use a word that sounds like something, but can mean a whole lot of other things.
In this case, we are going to “recon” the “Tale of Bob,” to do our best to poke any holes in the logic, divulge any hints or tips about the future of the game, and otherwise, bring this tawdry (and Lemon Drop Soaked) tale to a conclusion. Mostly.
Well…I’m back home. It’s been three weeks of full Jake immersion…three glorious weeks of living the life of a 2-year-old with endless energy and endless appetites for “new.” It feels like 3 months. We were actually that busy from morning til night. We did the things that you can still do safely in public…which isn’t much…but, every day was filled with smiles, giggles, “wrasslin’,” more viewings of “Dinosaur Train,” “How to Train Your Dragon,” and about a gazillion different audio and video versions of “Baby Shark.” Every minute a treasure.
I admit readily that I have not been remotely “normal” over the past couple of weeks. We are in “Full Jake Immersion” mode, and there is nothing as wonderfully distracting than hanging out with your two-year-old-never-sits-still, grandson. Deb joined me after a week of dealing with her Dad’s hospice, and is the first to admit there is no better way to deal with the end of a life, than immersing oneself in the beginning stages of another.
And I also admit that my storytelling is easily taken off of the rails when writing during patches between laying rails, and running trains, and taking walks, and playing ball, and swimming (feet in a kiddie pool or backyard water slide), or endless snacks….well…you get it.
It occurred to me that most of the obfuscation in my tale, was simply me trying to tell you what “Bob” said, through my own filter. And the the most efficient, and honest way to tell the rest of the story, is simply to use his own words (to the best of my recollection, through a haze of Lemon Drops consumed over hours of conversation).
OK…I know a bunch of you think that I am just going to string this along again, because I can. But, I won’t, even though I could. But, you have all been very patient with my retelling of this tale. Much more patient than “Bob” was, when it came to flinging his displeasure about my constant haranguing of him, for what you are about to read.
And you will read it…if you do. Read it, that is. So many of you seem to be “reading challenged.” You want your “facts” in 144 character tweets or less. The real world doesn’t work that way. Unless you are in politics…but, I digress.
Let’s recap. “Bob” isn’t his real name. But we captured “Bob” at Greta’s (not her real name) apartment in San Francisco, with the help of Ali (my daughter) and Ryan (a very large, attractive former college rugby player). And trust me…beans were spilled!
And no…I’m not still talking about the Falafel that he was delivering with his “side hustle,” Door Dash. I’m talking like an old 1940s movie “copper” who tells the “con” that the “jig is up…so he might as well spill the beans.” I have no idea why there was dancing and beans in those movies…but the aphorism stuck.
So…let’s start by getting some of your concerns out of the way.
First- me flying back to NJ had nothing to do with a “family gathering for the holidays.” I flew after the holidays…in a half-filled plane…with more layers of PPE than the average operating room staff wears in the critical care unit at a hospital. We have two nurses in our family. One is an ER nurse in the Covid unit at a VA hospital…and they made sure I was safe as I could be. And, I was.
Second- because I am being careful (very careful) not to expose or harm “Bob,” in this revelatory story, you don’t have to worry. EA won’t suddenly pull some shennanigans in regards to his employment, or altering the game. It’s too late for that. The damage has been done. But, as you will see, the damage has also been corrected about as much as could possibly be done. So, Chillax.
But, I had to know…and as it turns out…I’m glad to know, what I know now.
This has been a week to remember. In between dealing with getting my wife’s Dad hospice care, shuffling flight tickets for our trip back East, forgetting my computer, which forced me to do the Filler on my phone, and finding Bob, it has been one of those weeks I’ll likely remember for some time.
The “forgetting my computer” explains why I had to recycle an old graphic from one of my old posts about another mystery…Chester Dupree. But like I said, it has been one of those weeks. You make due…with what you have…and roll with the punches. Mysteries solved, often require adaptation.
As I prepare for another week of total unknowns, I know that adapting and altering plans is simply going to be the “new normal.” Right now, nothing is normal. In these times you just have to roll with the punches. Like Bob. He rolls with the punches. But, of course, I didn’t know that…until I found him. Which I did.
As it turns out, things with Bob are the kind of “weird” that makes a word like “weird” seem normal. And, what’s with that word anyway?? It’s supposed to be “I before E, except after C” in the English language. Except, apparently, when it isn’t…like with weird. Which is weird. But, I digress…