Mailbag
From: Peter Noone
Subject: Re: Tickets Not Streams
Date: August 21, 2026 at 4:47:30?PM PDT
As one of the oldest readers of your fascinating daily reveille
I should say all of today’s letter appealed to me in that it was almost a description of the old music business where the groups of teenagers like me and me ‘ermits did music for fun never realizing that the label were grinning behind their hand$.
After we grew up I personally have shared 100 million dollars of road
oldies but goodies, we old geezers still have legs!
Thank you for a great share
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From: Marty Walsh
Subject: Re: Dolly Parton
Date: August 27, 2026 at 3:07:20?AM PDT
Dolly Parton. One of the “real” true artists. I had the good fortune to play on 9 to 5 and her follow up album Burlap and Satin. Dolly would hang with the band on the breaks. She was quite funny and genuine. The “genuine” really stood out. She seemed so unaffected by the fame. That’s what I remember about her. A true artist who was just real people. I’m so grateful to have been able to be in her presence. Rest in peace Dolly.
Martè
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From: Jon Tiven
Subject: RE: Re-Dolly Parton
Date: August 26, 2026 at 6:44:12?PM PDT
1975, I’m sitting in the lobby of RCA Records in New York City, waiting to play Alex Chilton’s SINGER NOT THE SONG album (which I produced) for an a&r man who would subsequently show no appreciation. In walks Dolly Parton, sans hair and makeup escorted by four RCA suits. Her eyes catch mine, and I said say a friendly hello, instantly the suits spring into action to whisk her through risking no interaction with this 20 year old nobody. The lady pauses and says “No, I want to stop and say hi to this nice young man.” Dolly took her time and showed me what counts, that the people who are really responsible for whatever greatness The Music Business has custody of have better manners than those in charge.
R.I.P. Dolly, you lived it like you showed it and made a big impression on everyone you met, even if that interaction only lasted for a moment. Thank you.
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From: R. Emmett McAuliffe
Subject: RE: Dolly Parton
Date: August 27, 2026 at 8:20:50?AM PDT
Bob
One of the funniest radio station stunts I ever saw was KSHE-95 in St. Louis, which was the self-branded “Real Rock Station” and was *the* station for hard rock-loving dudes in the 70s and 80s, where Country music was anathema. The station had a listener contest for tickets to see Dolly Parton to a lucky winner and the ticket package included a pair of ear plugs and a set of binoculars!
I disagreed with KSHE’s aesthetic judgment, but I thought the stunt was so wonderfully unselfconscious. I still know a few boomers today who will go on rock cruises and go to any legacy rock concert in town, but will walk out if any country is played. Even after the majority of white boomers have migrated to Country. “This is simply who I am, take it or leave it”.
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From: Larry LeBlanc
Subject: LeBlanc BTS and Grammy
Date: July 31, 2026 at 5:58:08?PM MDT
Years ago Celine Dion went through a similar experience in the mostly French speaking province of Quebec when Francophones were discouraged about recording in English. But Celine, already the province’s biggest francophone artist, had signed with a recorded her first English album “Unison” with CBS Cananda and It contained her international breakthrough 1990 hit “Where Does My Heart Beat Now.” For the annual province ADISQ awards that year it was announced there was to be new Felix Award category of a French artist performing in English under the heading Anglophone Artist of the Year. A narrow field at the time when few Quebec Francophones were brave enough to record in English. Celine and her husband took it as a slap and indicated she would not accept the award. She did win and she refused to take the stage but did attend the national Juno awards hosting the national most English event in 1983 in Toronto. A rather rebellious career move. Still she has continued to record both English and French albums.
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From: Chris Adelmann
Subject: Re: Yummy Yummy Yummy
Date: August 2, 2026 at 3:00:11?PM MDT
nice piece on charts from years ago, including Yummy, Yummy, Yummy-as you noted very very catchy!. Joey Levine was one of the co-writers (and lead singers) and in the 70s he moved on to to be a huge NYC jingle writer, including NBC Proud as a Peacock and Budweisers This Buds for you. He sang on all the jingles and used the top NYC session guys including Steve Gadd, Rick Marotta, Will Lee, Marcus Miller, Leon Pendarivs, Chris Palmaro (his Music director), David Spinoza, and many others.
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From: Colleen Wainwright
Subject: Re: Yummy Yummy Yummy
Date: August 2, 2026 at 4:35:10?PM MDT
Back in the ’80s, Joey Levine was on heavy rotation with the music producers at the agency I worked for in NYC. We wrote a lot of ads with jingles or needing hook-y tracks, and some of my happiest times were spent in that crazy rabbit warren of studios they occupied at Crushing Music, or at other studios around town where we recorded. Insanely talented all-around musicians, the entire bunch of them—Joey knew how to spot a fellow magician, boy howdy.
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From: Leanne Ungar
Subject: Re: Yummy Yummy Yummy
Date: August 3, 2026 at 9:56:32?AM MDT
Joey Levine was Archie in The Archies, and sang and wrote many jingles, notably “Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t”
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From: Gary Helsinger
Subject: Re: Ritchie Blackmore Returns
Date: August 13, 2026 at 2:22:22?AM PDT
I was one of the (3) singers in the comedy rock band Green Jellÿ . I also signed myself/us. I’m here to tell you that our worldwide smash song, “The Three Little Pigs” IS “Smoke on the Water.” THAT is how we wrote it in the first place. We were messing around after rehearsal playing covers as we usually did, and while jamming “Smoke on the Water,” Bill started making up lyrics about cliché rockers who “move to Hollywood to become a star.” It’s funny that we got sued by everybody from Toys “R” Us to famously Jell-O for originally being named Green Jellö as well as Metallica, who sued us and won… But the one real infringement that didn’t happen, was stealing that riff of Smoke on the Water. I think the statute of limitations is long past on that one, but if not, I quit in 1997 so it’s no skin off my nose…or the hair of my chinny, chin, chin!
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From: Alan Stewart
Subject: Re: The Sunset Marquis Movie
Date: August 11, 2026 at 8:03:40?AM PDT
Caveat: I haven’t seen the movie yet.
I always stay at the Sunset Marquis when in LA. I had a band playing the Greek Theater in Berkely the night after the LA trip and Tres Cool was on the side of the stage watching. We starting chatting and I mentioned that I was at the Marquis the night before and he stepped back, took off his jacket and showed me this amazing tattoo of him throwing the TV off the balcony at the Sunset Marquis. Imagine the stories those guys have!
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From: Hank Neuberger
Subject: In the Lobby at the Sunset Marquis
Date: August 10, 2026 at 6:14:02?PM MDT
June 2, 1978.
Darkness on the Edge of Town had been released that day.
Steve Goodman and I had been mixing his album in Chicago (High and Outside) when Steve decided he needed some overdubs from some LA friends.
On the way to O’Hare that day we heard “Adam Raised a Cain” for the first time on WXRT.
Steve loved it right away and on the flight asked me tons of questions about Bruce’s relationship with his father, which Bruce had talked about in his shows.
We got to the Marquis at midnight and were checking in when the front door flung open.
There was Bruce.
Jeans, white tee with both sleeves rolled up high.
A beautiful brunette on one arm.
A supermarket bag in the other arm with a loaf of Wonder Bread and bottles of Coke sticking out.
Stevie walked right over.
“Bruce, I’m Steve Goodman, and I’ve been digging your song today “Adam Raised a Cain.”
Bruce looked right at him and said.
“Stevie Goodman. Steve Goodman. Steve Goodman. Your song “My Old Man.” Now that’s a great f*ckin’ song.”
And he was gone.
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From: Jeff Andrews
Subject: Re: Daddy Don’t Live In That New York City No More
Date: August 7, 2026 at 6:53:43?PM MDT
I have my unique, potentially bittersweet story to share. I grew up in a very small town in Ohio. Steely Dan, among a few others, were one of my main musical addictions. Loved everything they put out and Katy Lied is my favorite because every song is a pop gem. Anyway, I moved to NYC after college and was working on the Upper West Side. One day I was sitting on a bench eating my lunch and who walked by? Donald Fagen reading a newspaper while walking. Somewhat tall, lanky, bell bottom jeans and long sleeve T-shirt. I so wanted to open a conversation by saying Where did you get those shoes? (you serious fans will identify). Alas, I didnt and Ive regretted it ever since. To be 20 years old, newly in New York City, and to meet one of my musical heroes, wouldve been the best!!
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From: Jay Landers
Subject: Re: Bob Cavallo interview
Date: July 30, 2026 at 5:27:21?PM MDT
Hope you’re well.
Your recent interview with the legendary Bob Cavallo was terrific. I had the privilege of working for Bob during his Disney years, and your conversation with him reminded me what a delightful, insightful raconteur he was—and clearly still is.
Hearing Bob’s voice again brought back memories of his truly unique personality: equal parts confident, shrewd and humble to a fault. He embodies that increasingly rare, old-school blend of pure “show” and real “business.”
As head of Hollywood Records and Disney Records, Bob was unfailingly supportive of his staff. He gave A&R executives like me the freedom to flourish without hovering over every decision—a management style that inspired confidence, creativity, and fierce loyalty.
Your interview reminded me of story that still makes me smile.
When Bob first hired me in 1999 to run A&R for Walt Disney Records, the label had benefited for years from the extraordinary legacy of its catalog. But the classic soundtracks—from Snow White through The Lion King—had been reissued countless times and had basically run their course. We desperately needed fresh music that reflected Disney’s timeless values while feeling contemporary enough to connect with a new generation of kids.
But who was visiting the theme parks? Who was watching the films? Who was buying the music? In true corporate fashion, Disney had commissioned a marketing research team to validate what seemed rather obvious.
The findings were sobering. Disney’s iconic characters—Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Daisy, Goofy, and Pluto—simply weren’t connecting with younger audiences the way they once had. The challenge for each division was to find ways to make these beloved characters feel contemporary without compromising their status as treasured ambassadors of the Disney brand. Obviously, music could contribute to that mission.
Now here’s an example of the circuitous thinking that sometimes informs my A&R decisions.
At the time, Latin pop had recently become the world’s musical obsession. Ricky Martin, Gloria Estefan, Jennifer Lopez, Marc Anthony, and others dominated radio, television, and the charts.
As a kid, I’d always loved those classic “live” albums like The Beach Boys Party! and Johnny Rivers Live at the Whisky à Go Go. Of course, technically speaking they weren’t really “live in concert” at all—they were largely studio recordings sweetened with applause, laughter, and party chatter to create the illusion of one big celebration.
Those albums became my inspiration.
Why not create a festive “live” album starring Mickey and pals, performing family-friendly versions of Latin hits? It would instantly place this zany group into the current zeitgeist.
I hired the official Disney sanctioned voice-actors and we made an album called La Vida Mickey, featuring playful adaptations of songs like Ricky Martin’s “Livin’ La Vida Loca,” Richie Valens’ “La Bamba,” Miami Sound Machine’s “Conga,” and Lou Bega’s “Mambo No. 5.”
To produce it, I hired the gifted Marco Marinangeli, one of those rare behind-the-scenes players who could convincingly recreate virtually any musical style. His arrangements were authentic, energetic, and joyful. Mickey and friends sounded as if they were throwing the world’s biggest quinceañera.
Confident we’d created something special, and with Bob’s endorsement, I leaned into Disney’s legendary culture of synergy. Advance copies went to virtually every division of the company—the domestic and international theme parks, the cruise line, Disney Imagineering, ABC TV, the Disney Channel, consumer products, ESPN, the Disney Stores, and the film studio.
The response was overwhelmingly enthusiastic. Everyone wanted to incorporate this upbeat music into their own corner of the Disney universe.
Then things took an unexpected turn.
One afternoon I received an urgent message:
“Mr. Disney would like to see you as soon as possible.”
At first I was excited.
I’d never met Roy Disney, Jr., nor had I even seen him around the lot. The fact that he actually knew my name was rather astonishing. In my mind, he was almost a mythical figure—the company’s living connection to Walt Disney himself.
Naturally, I assumed he wanted to congratulate me. Surely the excitement about La Vida Mickey, and all the other successful projects I’d been working on, had filtered back to him via the highest levels of the company.
Instead, I walked into one of the more unusal meetings of my career.
Roy’s impressive office was filled with Disney history. On one table sat a magnificent scale model of his famous racing yacht, Pyewacket, surrounded by other priceless memorabilia, including a sterling-framed photo of the studio’s founder. But what struck me most was Roy himself. The resemblance to his Uncle Walt was uncanny—so much so that it was almost unsettling.
He warmly insisted I call him Roy and began by saying he’d heard many wonderful things about me from around the company. He told me I had a bright future at Disney.
I relaxed.
Then he slowly reached into a drawer and placed a copy of La Vida Mickey on the desk between us.
His expression turned serious as he evaluated the cover art, featuring Mickey standing behind a DJ turntable, sporting a glittering white glove worthy of Michael Jackson.
Roy began to explain — make that lecture — that Disney’s characters were sacred. They represented ideals. They were never to be diminished, trivialized, or associated with anything that might tarnish their image.
I nodded in agreement.
Then he looked directly at me and said:
“I don’t want Mickey fraternizing with hoodlums who steal hubcaps and slash automobile tires.”
I had the distinct feeling he wasn’t describing anyone from his yacht club.
In an instant, my cheerful little Latin party album had become something else entirely.
My mind was racing.
Was I about to be fired? Needless to say, I wanted to continue succeeding at the company. Frankly, I couldn’t afford not to!
Should I challenge what sounded to me like an unfair stereotype, or should I simply find an off-ramp before this conversation veered completely off the rails?
It was one of those surreal moments where time seems to slow down, and you’re frantically searching for exactly the right thing to say. How did my little project, created to celebrate music, culture, and fun land me in the middle of a conversation about racial profiling?
Somehow, I managed to unscramble my brain and calibrate my tone before saying, “Mr. Disney—I mean, Roy—the last time I visited Disneyland, I saw a lot of Latino families patiently standing in long lines, enjoying the rides, buying the merchandise…and paying a small fortune for overpriced, undercooked, cafeteria-style burritos and tacos.” Leaning in, I added, “Hardworking people who’d saved up enough money to bring their families to the park…and I didn’t see anyone flashing a switchblade.”
Then, throwing caution completely to the wind, I added, “And when you watch TV commercials these days—from McDonald’s to Coca-Cola…the brands that Disneyland works with—they all seem to feature Latin kids dancing through the aisles like junior Ricky Martin’s. So I think it would behoove Disney to embrace this incredible culture with its own vibrant Latin-styled music.”
As a PGA announcer might say, a hush fell over the crowd.
Roy tapped his fingernails on his desk like a speed typist. Finally, with a dead-eyed stare, he said, “Well…just be careful. We’re a family company.”
And that was it.
Had the storm passed? Or were there consequences waiting around the corner? Was Roy about to call Bob Cavallo and have me escorted off the lot? I managed to eke out some unconvincing utterance before making a hasty exit. Imagine Dorthy, the Scarecrow the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion departing their audience with the great and powerful Oz.
Simmering, I walked straight from Roy’s office to Bob’s, passing the Michael Eisner Building with its towering terra-cotta Seven Dwarfs statues supporting the roof.
Looking up at the building, I thought about how much I’d always loved Disney music. Before officially joining the company, my friend, the gifted Disney executive, Chris Montan, and I had worked together on several Oscar- and Grammy-winning Disney end-title songs, including “Beauty and the Beast” and Aladdin’s “A Whole New World.” But I’d never drunk the corporate Kool-Aid the way some other Disney “cast members” I’d met had, including one upper management exec who always wore his red shoes, a red belt and red watchband to work.
As I made my way to the Hollywood Records office, I took stock of the situation. I’m usually a pretty unflappable guy…but seriously…who needed this sh*t?
Still running on adrenaline, I charged into Bob’s office. Thankfully, he had an open-door policy.
He looked up from his desk and asked, “What’s up?” His tone did not suggest I was bothering him. Rather, he was open to hearing whatever I had to say.
I gave him a quick blow-by-blow account of the meeting. In the scheme of things, I knew we were only talking about another little Disney record, but to me it had become a matter of principle. Or was I overreacting to the misguided ramblings of a legendary—but now largely toothless-tiger from a bygone era?
Bob had managed many of my musical hero’s like Earth, Wind & Fire, Prince, and my childhood faves, the Lovin’ Spoonful. From the fantastic stories he’d shared with me, I knew they were all challenging clients. I also knew he’d seen and heard everything the business could throw at him, and had somehow managed to navigate every twist and turn. So, even though my blood was boiling, I valued his thoughts.
Bob had this quirky little habit of quietly inhaling and then pursing his lips before he spoke.
He looked at me, smiled slightly, and in the calmest voice possible said, “Oh, just forget about it kid…you’re doin’ great.”
Then, after a beat, he asked, “Did he really say they steal hubcaps…like Disneyland’s turning into West Side Story or something? Unbelievable!”
“So what should I do?” I asked.
Without missing a beat, Bob said, “Just put the record out and see what happens. If it’s successful, nobody’s going to complain…and everyone’s going to take credit for it. And if it’s a bomb, nobody’s even going to remember it.”
It was one of the most pragmatic pieces of advice I’d ever received—and exactly why I remember Bob Cavallo today with such affection. Trusting his own instincts, sharpened over decades, he’d instantly evaluated every possible outcome…he knew how the game would play out…and then he dispensed this advice in his typically direct and avuncular manner.
And here’s the P.S.
As Mickey Mouse sang to generations of young fans, “Hey there, hi there, ho there…you’re as welcome as can be!”
Thanks to Bob Cavallo, somewhere in my seldom-visited storage vault, sits a gold album plaque for La Vida Mickey.
Bob was 100% right. With La Vida Mickey, and its successful sequel album, both topping the kids charts, no-one uttered a word about my having corrupted Disney’s sterling image!
Speaking as a graduate of Disney-U, in my opinion, the company should erect a statue of Bob right outside the entrance to the music division he so expertly guided.
With best regards,
Jay Landers
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From: John Hartmann
Subject: Re: Dark Star
Date: August 19, 2026 at 6:10:49?PM PDT
Hi Bob,
The CSN album didn’t just fall off the truck. It was the product of a half dozen phone calls and some record biz hardball.
Hartmann & Goodman had finally broken through with Poco’s fourteenth album, ‘Legend’. America had also joined our roster, and we turned around their faltering album ‘Holiday’ after Warner Bros. dropped the ball.
Then the phone rang. “Hartmann,” I said.
“This is The Croz,” David replied. In those days, there was an abiding hiss on long-distance lines.
“Is this the call?” I asked.
“It is,” David said.
“Should I get on a plane?”
“Meet me at the Holiday Inn in Albany, New York tomorrow afternoon,” he asserted.
“I’ll be there,” I promised.
I was standing under the Holiday Inn portico when a long black limousine arrived, and David and Graham jumped out. We exchanged the appropriate kisses, hugs and happy slaps before adjourning to David’s room.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
“We are playing a gig in Hyannis Port tomorrow night,” Graham informed me.
“There’s no venue in Hyannis Port,” I ventured. “Where are you playing?”
“The Hockey Rink,” he whispered with a bit of a blush.
“Why?” I asked.
“We’re doing a benefit concert for Teddy Kennedy; he’s running for the Senate.”
“Let me get this straight,” I asserted. “You’re doing a benefit for one of the richest guys in the world, who is running for a race he couldn’t lose if he tried. Boy, do you need management!” “That’s why we called.”
We put on the show in the ice rink and were hosted by Mother Rose and Caroline. Teddy never made it.
We left for New York City after the gig, where Crosby & Nash sold out two nights at Wollman Rink in Central Park. Walter Yetnikoff, the Columbia Records chieftain, and his number two man, Bruce Lundvall, showed up both nights. It was obvious Yetnikoff hoped to sign David and Graham to Columbia. He already had Stephen Stills as a solo artist, so it didn’t take a genius to see what he was coveting.
After a couple of days of bickering over the deal, they joined Hartmann & Goodman as our third client. They were scheduled to leave for a two-week European tour, so I went along. It was a near disaster, but we made it through and landed back in L.A. exhausted but client-rich.
My first call was to Michael John Bowen, the ex-Green Beret manager of Stills. “Guess what we’ve got?” I asked.
“What?” he said.
“Crosby, Stills & Nash,” I boasted.
“You’ve got the guys?” he asked, somewhat incredulously.
“We do. Are you coming to town?”
“Tomorrow,” he promised.
The third call was to Ahmet Ertegun, the legendary head of Atlantic Records, CSN’s longtime label. I had read their recording contract, and it sucked. I told Ahmet we need to renegotiate the deal. He refused. “They still owe me six albums that I’ll never get,” he quipped. “Your deal is ten years old and has expired,” I said with maximum conviction. ” “What are you talking about?” “Personal service contracts in California cannot exceed seven years,” I said. “Bullsh*t! No new deal,” he said and hung up.
Stephen had a quiver full of new tunes and with Graham and David’s songs we had enough for a first rate album. We booked sessions at Criterion Studios in Miami and engaged the Aplert Brothers to produce. We leaked it to Atlantic that CSN was in the studio and somebody called and requested purchase orders. “No Thanks, the guys are recording on their own dime,” we informed. This was a consummate cage rattling, for sure. The album was done very quickly considering the perfectionist rio’s meticulous nature. It was time to call Walter Yetnikoff.
“Do you want to hear the new Crosby, Stills & Nash album?” I dangled. “Of course! When?” he asked. “As soon as you can get down to Miami,” He commandeered the CBS jet and we flew down for a listening party. Walter was delighted. “What do I have to do to get it?” he asked. ” Give us a million dollar advance, and you have to indemnify us against Ahmet’s eventual lawsuit, the rest you can pound out with our lawyers.” I said. “I’ll get back to you,” he promised. I leaked it to Atlantic that Walter had heard the record. The next call was from Ahmet.
The mad Turk was furious. He threatened a lawsuit. But I had an ace in the hole, and I blackmailed him into a renegotiation, not just for the new Album, but the new terms applied to the entire, CSN, CSNY and CN catalogs. Since Ahmet paid off, I won’t say what I had on him that he feared I would expose. After all, a deal is a deal. When the album came out, “Just A Song Before I Go” was a smash hit single and the LP went multi platinum. The ensuing reunion tour was a total sell out with nary an empty seat anywhere in the country. Walter had demurred but it was the catalyst we needed to bring Atlantic to the line. That was the last call.
Best regards,
John Hartmann
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From: Rob Whittaker
Subject: Re: Tickets Not Streams
Date: August 23, 2026 at 3:19:49?AM PDT
About live music, I play keys in Big Racket. We are a live party/cover band. In fact, people have said ‘They’re like a real band!’.
Stu Robb is our excellent frontman who makes every show a very cool party. Graeme Hartlan on bass and YouTubes Jimi Wolf Solos on guitar.
We sell a lot of beer.
We play mostly at Drums’N’Flats in Toronto, an excellent venue for live rock’n’roll. I think the occupancy is about 150, but it feels like we get 200 in there because the place gets rammed. It’s always on fire by the second set.
Interestingly, Michael McCarty, our unflappable drummer (you may know him) is a music industry veteran. He gets some very cool cats to come out and play with us. Sometimes we get Neil Sanderson of Three Days Grace to play Johnny B. Goode. Paul Shaffer. Andy Kim. Alan Frew might sing some Tragically Hip covers. Paquin Entertainments – and the band Harlequin – Ralph James plays bass when we cover his ‘80s synth-rock hit Innocence. We had the boys from Sum 41 join us a couple of months ago.
They all say the same thing: it’s awesome to play a small room with off-the-hook energy, because that’s rock’n’roll.
The star power is crazy fun for us. We get to meet and play music with our heroes. But the best part is that these guys enjoy playing in a bar again. It’s not reminiscence; it’s real. Like the guy said, we’re ‘like a real band,’ even for people who are used to much taller stages and larger crowds. They all enjoy the rootsy, back-to-basics experience. And we can play, so it’s easy for them to feel safe. They know it’s not going to be a train wreck.
The guests always have some nervous energy because they’re people too. It’s incredibly humanizing. And sometimes we don’t stick the ending, or we miss the break, but that moment when you’ve come through it and everyone had a great time – it’s like nothing else.
That’s when I look up and thank my mom for the piano lessons back in grade 6.
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From: Willie Nile
Subject: Re: Willie Nile
Date: July 28, 2026 at 8:36:26?PM MDT
Hi Bob,
Thanks for asking. Yes, my father passed away 3 weeks ago. He was 108 1/2 years old, the 16th oldest man in the U.S.. Joe Biden called him in November to wish him a Happy 108th Birthday.
He took no medication, which is crazy, and he wasn’t ill. His organs just began to shut down. He was such a good and humble man, the kind, one hopes, America, at it’s best, is made of. He lived at home and was still mentally sound and doing crossword puzzles, reading books and having a Happy Hour every day. One of my brothers has been living with him for the past 8 years and watching over him. His sense of humor was intact until the very end.
He was of Irish Catholic origin and went to mass every day for over 83 years. Who does that!
And he used to wake every night for over 43 years and do a Holy Hour. He’d wake at random hours in the night to use the bathroom and then sit in a chair and pray for people for an hour. Who does that! It’s a blessing that he no longer has to deal with the sufferings of life here on earth and all of us in the family know how lucky we were to have him for as long as we did.
I’m doing ok. It’s a big loss for all of us but I know it’s best for him. He always said he was ready to go whenever the time for him came. He can now rest in peace and is hopefully dancing somewhere in paradise with Mom.
Here’s to a good man who led by example and showed us how to live and how to leave with courage and grace.
Willie
