My father died last week. He was pretty decent, for a dude. The official memorial service is today. When I get back from this thing — or rather, series of things, because apparently when people’s fathers die they have to relocate to Dallas and host catered affairs and entertain masses of out-of-towners and drop-in condolers and fidget through a ceaseless string of sentimental tributes to the departed patriarch — I will regale you with my caustic impressions of American funeral culture. But until then I can be seen lurching around the Metroplex between these assorted functions, wearing a gender-specific girl-suit and crippling girl-shoes, picked out for me by my mother, to whom I could not, for once, say no.
Mar 10 2008