One of Bob’s favorite stories is about the woman who asked her sister to take care of her cat while she was on vacation. One day, she called home to check in and asked about the cat.
“The cat’s dead,” she was told.
“That’s a terrible way to tell me,” the woman admonished. “You should have said something like, ‘The cat’s on the roof.’ Then in the next call, you could have said, ‘The cat’s still on the roof and she’s not eating.’ That would have prepared me to hear about the demise of darling Fluffy.”
The next year, the woman again went on vacation. This time, she asked her sister to care for their mother.
Again, the woman phoned from the road. “How’s Grandma?” she asked.
“Grandma’s on the roof.”
Does anyone but me think that the drip, drip, drip of bad news from Havana is a sort of “Fidel’s on the roof” message to the world?
Off to the National Conference of State Legislatures this week. Assuming I can find a business center, I will post from there.