MISSING RAY


It was seven years ago today that my oldest brother, Ray, disappeared. He seemed to vanish from the face of the earth without a trace. He mysteriously went missing from his home in rural Virgina. Despite a massive search by the state and local police, no clue has been found as to his whereabouts. I haven't researched the law of Virginia on the issue, but in Indiana Ray would now be legally presumed to be dead. It devastates me to say that.

We all suspect, and fear, foul play. Ray had his share of enemies, I suspect, and he was known to get in trouble by gambling more than he could afford. Did gamblers catch up with him? Was it a love triangle that someone decided to end in a vicious manner? Or did he simply decide to ride the storm out on a remote beach somewhere in South America? Not knowing what happened, whatever the case, is probably the hardest part. It is the hardest of all on our 76-year-old father. As much as I would love for Ray to reappear, I know that it is very unlikely to happen at this point.

Ray was a great guy. He had his faults, as we all do, but I always knew that he would be there for me if I needed him. Today, more than ever, I miss my brother.

BEST DRESSED MAN

     It was with a sense of disappointment that I learned that Prince Charles recently edged out both Barack Obama and me to be named the world's best dressed man by Esquire magazine.  I really thought that I might be in the running to win the award this year.  I suppose I committed a major faux pas last year when I showed up to a fancy shindig wearing a Hawaiian shirt and flip flops--my usual summer costume. The voters were apparently unimpressed with my casually elegant, bohemian look. Oh well.  

     If I had been voting (and thus ineligible to vote for myself), I would have cast my vote for Rick Pitino, the impeccably dressed coach of my beloved Louisville Cardinals.  He always looks fabulous, even in a white suit.  

     And he always looks really, really outstanding in March.