alas, the brothers crane had another full bodied christmas.
the once a year summit of 50-something stupidity culminated in the annual calf competition (as in who has the biggest), which was followed on the heels, so to speak, with a bounty of impersonation ad libs.
inevitably, a guest won the competition (this year, it was the pseudo step daughter’s boyfriend)—a crane never wins, after all, we’re cranes.
but this year's impromptu “ya wanna be a millionaire with the stars” with yours as regis philbin stole the show.
and in its wake, i discovered once again that a son’s love for his father is larger than any embarrassment that might be cast upon him, no matter how deep and no matter how prolonged.
ah yes, it is the holiday season.
the true spirit carries on, and all is right in bob’s world—albeit fleeting.