Best And Worst

…So the other night TBF was reminiscing about a day he spent playing hookey when he was about sixteen.

His story reminded me of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off– if Ferris had grown up in Pittsburgh and had been more of a bad ass.

As TBF recounted the tale of that long ago skipped day of high school- and back stories of his teenage co-conspirators- a grin as big as the Ritz spread across his face.

“That was a great day,” he concluded.

“It sure sounded like it was.  Maybe the best day ever,” I agreed.

And that got me thinking.

What was my best day ever?

And that got me thinking about that wonderful 1991 buddy movie, City Slickers.

Remember that famous scene where Daniel Stern, Billy Crystal and Bruno Kirby talk about their “best” and “worst” days?

Paging Dr. Freud Sidebar:  When I watched it again, I noticed that each “best” day somehow revolved around each guy’s father.  It was written by Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel and I’m willing to take their word that fathers play the most vital role in most boys’ psychological narratives.

But that inside info didn’t help me much.  My dad was a great guy and all but as I ran through my memory bank of most memorable days, he just didn’t figure in my “best” and “worst” scenarios at all.

Maybe it is just a “guy” thing.

Anyway back to the main event….

There certainly were a lot of great days in my life.  (Not counting the days my children were born.  “Too easy”- as Phil in City Slickers ruled.)

There was the day that the Chicago Tribune called and told me that they were going to run a piece I had sent them in their “Style” section.

There was the day that I opened the Tribune at breakfast table and read me.

There was the day that the Pioneer Press called and said that I had beaten out all the other applicants and that the new column was mine.

There was the day that I found our house in Winnetka.  Love at first sight.

There was the day I smuggled a black standard poodle puppy home while the kids were at school.  The looks of their faces when they discovered the new arrival? Classic.

The day Nick and I adopted Andy, our Scottish Terrier rescue.

These were happy days.  Red letter days.  Important days.  Remarkable days.

But were any of them the BEST day?

I thought harder.  And harder.  An hour later I was still trying to come up with the best day of my life.

And then I got it.

Eureka!

The best day of my life was January 20, 1976.

That was the day that I got divorced in Chicago from the Brat from Baltimore.  Whew.  What a relief not to be married to that lying, cheating, two-timing crook anymore.

And that was also the day that I married Bill Ross in Las Vegas.

Yep.  Divorced and married again on the same day.

You have to understand what a godsend he seemed.  My parents were ecstatic.  They admired Bill and his business acumen and they had given me a big thumbs up to go ahead.

They knew that Bill would love and protect and shelter me from harm.  I had been saved by a white knight in a little green Mercedes and of course, I was going to live happily ever after.

And the worst day of my life?

Same day.