(The photo that served as the inspiration for our drawings. I took this in the mid-90s while Dad was staying in a long-term care facility for his emphysema.)

Several days ago Mona said something about us getting together after work for a nice dinner Thursday.

What for, I wondered?

She seemed a little surprised.

It’s the anniversary of your father’s passing, she replied.

Oh yeah. I actually had forgotten.

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(Wearing my Stan Mikita T-shirt at the Hawks vs. Ducks game in March. Thanks to Mona & Kim for the tix. Even though they lost, it was a night to remember in a season to remember.)

Today was one of the craziest days I’ve ever had as a reporter.

I’m not kidding. The deluge of news pounded me like a Dustin Byfuglien check against the boards. It was almost as crazy as being the lead rewrite the night the Plainfield tornado killed 28 people in 1990. Almost.

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I feared Mona would collapse.

No, really. I’m not exaggerating.

We’d just driven for hours from Laguna Beach to Indio to help our friends at 118 Degrees as they served goodies to the VIP at Coachella. Our task — take photographs, hopefully of famous people sipping on coconut drinks.

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