Gerald Raymond “Jerry” Nunn
My father died last week. Not entirely unexpectedly—he had some recent serious health problems—but it was still a shock to get the call the morning of August 8 that he had died the day before.
This is the story of three different men, all of them my father, each living a distinctly different part of one life.
Forty years ago today at 09:23 MDT, Julie Anne joined the world with a yowl, and the world blinked at the sudden arrival of this brightest of lights in its midst.
Forty years on, the light’s brighter still.
Look, even the kitchen calendar is getting in on the act.
Everyone, go pester Jewells with birthday wishes at her various online haunts:
A pint of Amber Ale from Red Rock Brewing Company, the first brewpub I ever visited.
Headed home from Kingston.
There’s an iguana just outside the frame on the car deck (lower left). Bit of a surreal moment there.
Club-level seat for my first game of the Mariners’ 2013 season.
Here’s from the top of section 234:
And here from my seat 9 on row 1.
We attended the sentencing hearing for the perpetrator of a burglary in October. Needed a bit of a break afterward.
- My own MacBook Pro. It started coming to work with me a few months ago.
- My older work laptop, a Dell Vostro something or other. It’s connected to the dual widescreen monitors.
- My new work laptop, an HP Envy dv7. Hoping to have it fully configured and switched as my main work machine by this afternoon.
I managed to get hold of Katharine’s phone, but she lunged to retrieve it within a couple of seconds.
And then the camera went off:
This morning in the cafe I arrived at the cash register with my meal card to pay for breakfast. I’ve done this hundreds of times, it’s in no way remarkable.
Then my brain kicked in. Or maybe it tripped, or cramped.
The friendly cashier tallied up my purchases. “That will be seven dollars,” he said. It’s always seven dollars, the particular combination of items I’ve chosen over the last couple of weeks. We marveled, again, like we have for the last five or six visits, how isn’t it amazing that it always comes out to an even dollar amount?
So I swiped my meal card, knowing I probably didn’t have quite enough cash value to cover the purchase, and sure enough I was short. “You owe $3.73,” the cashier said.
That’s when the brain kick/trip/cramp started. I fished out my wallet, opened it, saw I had a single bill, and the first thought that flashed through my head was:
Oh shit, I only have a five.
Somehow I managed not to blurt this aloud. I think the part of my brain that was stumbling over the math was also being slapped by the other part of my brain that prevented my mouth from moving and made me just reach out, jerkily, to offer the bill to the cashier, who took it as if nothing was wrong.
If only he’d seen the briefly colossal battle inside my head.
It really shouldn’t be possible to say, without lying, “I’ve been up for 6 hours” at 10:45 on a Sunday— Don Nunn (@donnunn) November 25, 2012
Amid the rivalry of the purple-vs.-orange crowd, we are united by the glow of dozens of mobile devices all being used to find updates on a common subject: