Last night Sandra and I went to the calling hours for the mother of my friend, Don. Lorraine was a wonderful, sweet, and kind woman who'd had more than her share of troubles. The family photos, displayed on a DVD, reminded me of my childhood, sitting around with Don and his brother, Vinnie, playing Pipeline on the guitar. (They played; I listened.) At the calling hours, we got to visit with Don's daughter, Sarah, and wife, Debi. It's hard to believe that it's been a year and a half since we last spoke, since Don's funeral. We just missed seeing Ken. People get away if you let them.

I'm halfway through my contract at work. After I return from vacation, Labor Day week, I need to start serious discussions about a contract extension or I'll be looking for a new job in early October.

Sandra's been talking with her parents and her mother's doctors a lot about her mother's upcoming back surgery. I'm waiting for a call from the social services person in my father's doctor's office. In both cases, it's quite a challenge to be helpful without being presumptious. ("Hi, I'm here to help you.") Remembering one of the basic principles of the Hippocratic Oath, we should, first, do no harm.

This weekend Sandra and I are going in to Boston to see a Red Sox game. Pedro is pitching. We're looking forward to having one of Luis Tiant's Cuban sandwiches for supper.