I Just Got My First Tattoo. (A Dad Story.)

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Three days after my Dad died, I got a tattoo. My very first tattoo. Lemme back up: I had never- never- wanted a tattoo before. Even with the magnitude of incredible events I’ve been privy to in my 34 years (like, you know, creating THREE PEOPLE), there was never a symbol that I needed have on my body. Certainly not one dug into place by a whirring and rather sharp needle. (The fear trifecta, for those of you playing along at {Read More}

My Dad’s Last Sold-Out Show.

Hi guys, I just wanted to pop in and thank every single one of you for the love, shares, virtual hugs and- wonderfully enough- a smattering of real hugs, too. I’m still not in a place where I feel all blogtacular and “la la la kids say the darndest things” (not outwardly, anyway), but I thought I’d post a quick note about how incredibly beautiful my Dad’s memorial service was and share some music. a) My Dad’s memorial service was {Read More}

‘Bye, Dad.

Dad Keely Cape Cod

My Dad passed away this morning. I alternately miss him like a limb and am so grateful that he’s no longer on this plane- because that means he’s no longer suffering. I also have firsthand knowledge that he’s happy- he’s happy- so it’s slightly easier for me to write about him, celebrate him, and grieve him without the bewildered fist to my heart that’s accompanied these past two years and change. And I’ll attempt to do so without giving an {Read More}

Brave.

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When I was a little kid, my Dad used to take us sledding at The Pit. A questionably safe, still in use/long out of use gravel pit where gigantic trucks would dig up clay for some unknown, terribly mysterious and ghost-story-romantic reason. (At least in the head of a seven year-old.) I was a pretty short person- especially back then- but I don’t think I’m exaggerating in the slightest when I say that the clay hills comprising The Pit were {Read More}

Let’s Go Exploring: Paper Storage Edition.

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One of the best parts about helping to sort/organize/preserve at your childhood home is the sheer amazingness that you find (and subsequently scan). Behold: It’s the little things. Unless you’re talking about a certain blue felt fedora which one of us received for Christmas ’93. Then it’s the big things.