What I remember about my father I will share with you, although, as the days and weeks slip by, I remember less and less. Without the odd peek at a fading photograph, even his face is slipping away into the time fog. I have since forgotten his birthday, his age, and the date he died, remembering only that I was the one to close his eyes, and draw the sheet over his face.

“Hey, Jimmy. Can I get a glass of water when you get a chance?”
I think some food will do me good.
“There ain’t no ice. There ain’t no ice.”
Yes, sir. I’ll just get a little food in me, and I’ll be my old self again,.. Why didn’t I feel like flirting with that young woman? I’ve been desperate for the comforting therapy of flesh all week, but,...
“I’ve got to take my car in tomorrow night, Jeff. I’ve got to leave it there all night.”

Moonlight pours over the road like the silken sheets of a long forgotten lover. He stares straight ahead, eyes taking in every detail of the night spread before his unblinking eyes. The engine of his car purrs softly, propelling rider and machine farther from the suburbs, and deeper into the embrace of empty country roads. Every muscle in his being is perfectly attuned to the task at hand, the task of driving and forgetting. His mind is crystal clear; every nerve, every synapse devoted to the flawless union of man and machine.

Well, it wasn\'t the point he\'d been trying to make, but sure, why not? The committee seemed to take a liking to it. George smiled from above his maroon tie as he ended his presentation 20 minutes early. Twelve bald heads nodded vigorously around the cherry-oak conference table as Walton Pritchord, at 57 the youngest CEO to ever lead Premier Akron Enterprises, rose up and grabbed hold of George\'s hand.

The gaze is always the same, reflected back, unblinking-- turning to see the different angles of the decay. Questions crash against each other until they run together. I think of the past, of the ones I should have loved harder, never let go. The ones I think of when all is quiet. The late nights staring at the phone, wishing I had the guts to call. But I know it’s too late. It’s now another life, and I’m all but forgotten. Maybe it’s better that way. It could be if I could just forget, but I cannot. I don\'t know how much longer I can keep this mask in place, pretending that it\'s all okay.

TRUE STORIES OF HEROES\' BRAVE BATTLES
BRAVE SOUL OF APRIL 2003: JENNIFER WALLCOCKS
This month we talk to a young lady that weaves an unusual tale. Jennifer Wallcocks is a Junior at Eastern Community College in Connecticut. We went to Connecticut to see Jennifer, and get her tale firsthand.
Darby: Thank you, Jennifer, for contacting us. Can you tell us your problem?
Jennifer: My problem?
D: Yeah; the reason you contacted us.
J: Oh. Well, I guess my problem is that I don\'t know if I\'m into kinky sex or not?

There are bastard people on this earth who see zoos as nothing more than fundamentally wrong animal prisons. Those people have obviously never seen how much fun caged animals have! I mean, why would any animal not like being caged up? They have round-the-clock security, all the food they can eat, and someone to clean up all their poo. Do you? No, you don\'t. Neither do I. Maybe that\'s why those bastard people hate zoos. They\'re jealous!

In this time of war it is important that we support our troops. These men, these brave, brave men, are putting their very lives on the line so that I may continue to live my wonderful democratic lifestyle here, within the safe walls of the best damn country in the world: The United States of America.

SUNDAY!!! SUNDAY!!! SUNDAY!!!
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