Happy Oscar Day, little man.

I guess that might need some explaining. See, the Oscars are like the Superbowl for people who love movies. And I love me some movies. I’ve been completely fascinated by movies for as long as I can remember. I was writing screenplays in my head since childhood, absorbed in behind-the-scenes stuff. I’ve made a few small things–back in college I used to run the “TV station” (a three-hour once-a-week closed-circuit broadcast). It’s what I love, and it’s what I’m doing again, at least on a small scale.

Oscar night is such a special night. Your Grandma P. and I make kind of a to-do about it. Special foods, a whole afternoon dedicated to the show, and squealing and gossiping through the whole thing. I love every minute of it. The Oscars are why, when I moved to Los Angeles for three years, I moved right to Hollywood Proper. For those years I worked in front of the Kodak Theater every day. I walked up and down right where that red carpet is going now. Heck, one year I got to walk *on* the red carpet while they were setting it up–and I have a little chunk of that same red carpet that one of the workmen hacked off for me as they tore it down.

This may all seem random and silly, and it probably is. But last year about this time was right after we found out you were coming. Grandma P. came up and stayed with us and Daddy even got into the game. I’m so glad that I could share one of my favorite things with you at least once. I wish you were here watching with me. But maybe you’re down there in California now, hovering over the hoi polloi and watching all the excitement. I can’t help but think of you on a happy day like this.

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