I finally got hold of Justin, a guy I was hoping would come and stack the fire wood sitting in the driveway. His cell phone mail box was full on the three or four occasions I had tried to get him in the past few days and I was getting irritable.
But today I got him. He was apologetic about the voicemail and about not getting back to me but explained that things had been a bit topsy turvy. He had moved and then there was the fact that, at 52, his father had committed suicide.
"They cut away a part of his jaw and cut out his tongue and had to reconstruct it," Justin said levelly. "They performed a tracheotomy. They tried to reach the cancer."
Justin is 31. His father was 52. Is suicide any less confusing because of age? I doubt it.
Anyway, Justin said he might make it over this afternoon.
"I could use the workout," he said.