My younger daughter and I were talking over the weekend. “I don’t know anyone who has tested positive,” she said.
My response: “I don’t, either.”
(Now, do I know who Jackson Browne is? Yes. I had all his records. I saw him five times at five different venues. But do I KNOW him? No.)
That was Saturday. At 3 p.m. Tuesday, I returned from a semi-successful run to Publix. (We’re having trouble finding Spanish rice.) My wife greeted me by saying, “We now know someone who has tested positive.”
I froze. “Father Brian,” she said.