thematically fickle

We made numerous and exceedingly gushing toasts to “Bobby” on Saturday night, the well-known grape crusher who died last Friday at the age of 94.  Somewhere between The Lei Lounge and Bar Pink Elephant and tucked in between martini number three and glass of wine number two (ouch), I learned that Bobby had changed the pronunciation of his name from “MonDAYvee” to “MonDAHvee.” For the life of me, I can’t remember why.  But it seems that if you repeat each one out loud a few times, further explanation becomes redundant.  Regardless, I declared after toast number I-don’t-know-how-many, that his passing was terribly unfortunate.

“It’s a shame that the wrong people always die!” I said to Rachel.

My friend with the astronomical IQ placed her hand lightly on my arm and responded, “Aaryn: it’s not that the wrong people die.  It’s that the right people don’t die.”