Today is Saturday

The first day of summer was a beautiful, peaceful and socially distant day with my two friends and colleagues on Sacandaga Lake. It was fitting that it was Governor Cuomo's or, as we lovingly called him, "Andy", last daily press conference.  We actually tried to get service by the lake so we could all watch/listen together in person but alas (and, I'm not complaining), the wifi was spotty. Maybe it was better I watched late last night alone. Three tissues, one final laugh later, and it was over.

There he was alone. Not flanked by the team lead by the ever intelligent and poised Melissa or Dr. Zucker (the first time he wasn't on the dais, I worried for his health) or Rob or the bold reporters. If I ever run into Jesse locally will I have the guts to say hello?

I never planned a Google meet between 11:30-12:30. The days he was late threw us all off. The reminder text of "Andy" would pop up from my mom or from one of the three friends I watched with. I learned quickly that of our three local affiliates, only the local ABC would keep it going until most or all of the questions were answered.  We would wait patiently day after day to hear about when we would return to school. We were not fond of his two week at a time plan. However, it always kept me optimistic.

Dear Andy, you made us all laugh and cry and cry and laugh, day after day.  Three times you told us about the couple from Queens who came to Albany for Thai food.  We are still all dying to know what restaurant it was. The second time you told it you said, "I was telling someone about this couple..." I yelled at the TV, "Us! You told US!" You recycled your jokes like a good dad and it comforted us. We craved pasta because of you. I promoted and voted for my favorite mask video (It didn't win but they were all amazing). I loved your smirk when you quoted AJ Parkinson.  I'm a Queens girl. I know who he is.

We couldn't imagine a flattened curve or even you not being on every. single. day.  And yet, here we are.

These last couple of weeks, after we bent the curve, I admit I didn't run to turn you on as automatically as I did before when the alert would pop up on my phone.  But I knew you were there and would if I could. 

Thank you for the consistent comfort the past 14 weeks. Your press conferences will go in the history books and years from now I will tell my grandchildren all about them and how proud I was and always will be to be NY Tough, Smart, Disciplined and most of all, LOVING.

Yes, today is Saturday. I miss you already.