Imagine a picture of me taking the heel of my hand and slapping it against my forehead as though I had just quaffed a Latte with double cream when I could have had a V-8. Here I sit, feeling stupid and empty and helpless after having written a rather lengthy epistle in which I implied, among other things, that I had some personal knowledge about a football coach named Bill Parcells. So, to finish shattering a credibility that was already cracked, I referred to his wife not once but thrice that as Suzy. The main problem with that is it should have read Judy. The secondary problem is that Suzy is one of the couples three daughters. I started wondering about that when I got a terse question on Facebook asking me who is Suzy Parcells. To worsen matters, I snapped back that it was his wife. Then, later, another friend, Ann Sweazy, sent me an email in which she very tactfully pointed out my error. She certainly knew because she and her late husband, Bob, had been friends of the Parcells, dating all the way back to undergrad days at Wichita State. That was back when it was simply Wichita University. Anyway, here I am wearing enough egg on my face to build a nice omelet to go with my V-8. Besides, I dont even like Latte...
Posted on: Mon, 10 Nov 2014 01:13:50 +0000
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