I'm out.

Heading down to Charleston, South Carolina today. This is the sort of trip you take to celebrate your 30^th wedding anniversary when you’re trying to pay for your daughter’s wedding. I mean, your 30^th doesn’t come around every day. Some of our friends have gone to Greece or Italy or some other exotic place. No, we’re driving down to Charleston for four days because our son is down there so we’ll get to see him. A two-fer!

Of course, Charleston is no slouch. I have always wanted to go there and, from everything I’ve heard, it’s gorgeous. Patrick has fallen in love with the place.

Getting away from Richmond has become an obsession of late. Leaving Dad for four days brings a mixture of guilt and relief. Last night he knew who I was but spent most of our time together telling me about how the nurses were trying to beat him up.

Leaving Richmond will be easier than leaving everything behind. I will still have one eye trained on the stock market. My heart will jump every time I see the nursing home’s number pop up on my cell phone. Pam will still have wedding planning details and loose ends swimming around in her brain.

But here’s the plan. To the best of my ability, I’m going to concentrate on the beauty of this charming southern treasure. I’m going to enjoy the Spoleto festival atmosphere. I’m going to spend some time with my talented son and watch him perform in an opera and a choral concert and celebrate his 25^th birthday. I’m going to sightsee and eat fabulous food. I’m going to be eternally grateful for the privilege I’ve had to be Pam’s husband for 30 years.

I will leave it to the rest of you to sort out who’s to blame for Elliot Rodger’s murderous rampage, why the Veteran’s Administration treats our soldiers worse than the terrorists at Gitmo, and why the City of Richmond can’t agree on a new baseball stadium.

I’m out.