It was 11 May 2001. I was at a software developer conference in California when the news raced through the conference center: Douglas Adams had experienced a spontaneous existence failure.

Froods from all over the planet gathered online and a consensus was formed. In 14 days, commonly known as 2 weeks, we would remember our DNA by carrying a towel in memory of the hoopiest frood. So it was that on 25 May 2001, all the Hitchhikers of Galactic Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha grabbed our towels as we headed out the door. It was a Friday.

I always know where my towel is but on this auspicious day, so does everyone else.

The day also happens to be my father-in-law’s birthday and, until he experienced an existence failure, I would show up at his home, towel in hand or over shoulder.

Then came 2018. It was, once again, That Day! Only, on this day, the phone rang. Hospital. Now. It’s happening.

My wife and I dressed quickly. I put on the Special Shirt and we left for the hospital. Once there, I realized WE HAD NO TOWELS! I drove to a local store and, at 5am, I found towels! I wrapped myself in a towel and headed back to the hospital.

Later that day, I added "Grandpa" to the list of names I’m known by. It’s been 5 years since Towel Day and FiL Day also became known as Calvin Day.

I thought I knew love. I love my wife and four children. I love my son-in-law. BUT the love I have for them is only a whisper of the love that rocks my world for Calvin. It’s not that I love my wife or children less than I ever did. I love them so much that there isn’t room in this body to contain it. My love for Calvin is so huge, the universe isn’t large enough for it.

Anyway, it’s a Thursday today and I never could get the hang of Thursdays. Glad you were born on a Friday my Calvin.

Now, I’ll go drink something that almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea.