No Answers

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My nephew, Johnny, sent me a song to listen to:

“We Didn’t Start the Fire” by Billy Joel.

“Don’t forget to listen to this today,” he texted.

He had read about how Jeff and I had sang the song over and over and over again until we could sing the song without even hearing it.

“Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnny Ray, South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio.”

I can still do it...

...all the way through.

“You really got cheated,” I told my young nephew.

“I’m trying to do good so he sees me from heaven,” Johnny said.

And I gave him a lot of answers, but none of them were any good.

“It sucks,” I said. “He was my favorite person ever, and he loved you so much.”

Our conversation went on like that for a little while and then I tried to make him laugh by telling him what I might do to St. Peter when I finally meet him.

He laughed and then had a very Jeff-like response that made me laugh.

So, perhaps the answer is hidden somewhere in the life that we still have left to live, and as I mentioned to Johnny that maybe we will meet again.

“I know,” my nephew said, “but it really, really sucks.”

“Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn’s got a winning team, Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland.”

Sucks.

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