DFC -Investigative Journalism

I rarely go to the "dashboard" of my blog, if that's what it's called, but I did yesterday, in order to change the email setting from the comically funny AOL address to the "might be a young person" Gmail one.  As I perused the section, I checked the "comments" section.  Most of them were over two years old, and were left by my estranged sister, who I haven't spoken to in nearly a year.  But there was a recent one, from someone who read a post about her late father -- and she asked me to contact her.

Alas -- she didn't leave an email address or phone number, but I did some cyber snooping.  I went to Link'd In, or whatever it's called, and found her.  I left her my email address. She responded.  Last night we had a delightful conversation.

Speaking of estranged relatives, she hadn't spoken to her father in well over 20 years, and would check the Herald obits to see if he had died.  Then she'd Google his name.  In doing that, she came upon my blog, of all things, and through that had learned he had died, in November.

She's a delightful woman, about my age, who now lives in North Florida.  We spoke happily about her Dad, a man I admired greatly.  We spoke about the Miami of her youth -- the crazy 70s and 80s, and we spoke about family estrangement -- a very sad but nowadays prevalent thing.

She thanked me and thanked me.  My silly blog had given her information she doesn't know she'd have otherwise gleaned.  And I thanked her -- for the wisdom her father shared with me, and those around him.

The Boss sang, sagely, that "Don't make no difference what nobody says...ain't nobody wants to be alone."  We crave connection.  I have met a few people who go through this life without close friends.  I'm not sure how they do.  To me, it'd be like going without oxygen.

In that vein, I'm thrilled for D2.  She's currently in Arkansas, of all places, for business.  I told her she might well be the first of our family who ever found herself in that state.  But tomorrow she's flying to Atlanta, for a reunion with her three closest friends -- they lived together for three years in college -- the first in the sorority house, and the final two in a delightful place called Yellow House, so named because it was a house painted Yellow.

These young gone Gators are now a pair of budding business execs, a dog sporting child life specialist at a major NYC children's hospital, and a corporate lawyer in Atlanta.  I'm sure they'll have a MLK weekend reunion filled with laughter and the sharing of life wisdom.

And I can guarantee -- there will be NO estrangement with D2 and her father.  When I leave this mortal coil -- hopefully in many years in the future -- she will know first hand -- not by having to find out in some silly blog.