557. Out of sorts

That last few days have been not quite but almost difficult because of a rift between me and a friend of very long standing. We've disagreed on something very important to both of us. Like all things, this too shall pass. In the meantime, I've sought diversions where they may be found. Friday afternoon Preston and I went to Frankfort and toured the Old Capital on Broadway, designed by a very young Gideon Shryock - notice the spelling - the same young architect who designed our Jefferson County Court House. We did a few other touristy things in my favorite capital city before returning home. Saturday afternoon was yet another trip to central Kentucky, this time to Lexington for a political dinner held in an old refurbished barn. Sunday I was a reader at church, reading the Prayers of the People for the Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost, praying for all sorts of folks. Today I did go back to work, but I remain a little dulled by the situation at hand. After work, again with Preston, I took in a faculty concert given by Paul York and Michael Gurt playing selections from Bach and others in Comstock Hall on the U of L campus. Afterward, we went to Denny's on Crittenden Drive [don't act like you don't know Denny's on Crittenden Drive] where we, unwittingly, became engaged in a conversation with someone who was intent on telling all about his educational, ideological, and professional career. At some point through the discussion, which included this man telling me he recognized my voice from when I did radio voiceover commercials in the late 1980s and early 1990s, I realized I knew who this man was. To confirm, I asked if he had a business card. He offered one. It idenifies him as the founder of the Kentuckiana Cinematography Club, a producer, writer, director, DP [I don't know what those letters mean], actor, aerial videographer, and cinematographer. His name? Brennan Callan. I remain out of sorts.