Somehow, I felt like I needed to pay my last respects, so I went to Bob’s funeral last Wednesday in Price Hill. I can’t exactly remember how we met, probably through a friend of a friend, but it was in the early 1990s. Throughout the years, we always stayed in touch, but I would often ask myself why.
If I were about ready to die or, better yet, just leaving town for a bit, the following would be my ideal last meal in Cincinnati. First, I’d choose Mount Adams, because I live there and because its history of drunks and monks appeals to both sides of my nature.