Tuesday afternoon greetings.
As if 2020 hadn’t already been bad enough, I learned this morning that my friend Rebecca’s husband died on Friday. He had broken the same hip twice since August 6 and undergone 2 surgeries while battling Parkinson’s and other health issues. She wasn’t in any shape to share details on the phone this morning, but I did pick up that they were at a hospital (rather than the rehab where he’d been) and that their minister was with them. He had just turned 74 on Tuesday.
RIP, James.