THE SUMMIT

So, my old man is climbing Mount Kilimanjaro as I type. He's 66, but thinks he's still 19 playing hoops at Northwestern.

At the moment, according to the itinerary I have been clinging to for the past five days, he and his friend Paula are at 15,300 feet. Tomorrow they will climb to 18,500, hiking time 7-10 hours to go 1.6 miles. 1.6 miles - that's correct. Can we say STEEP?

Sunday's Summit Day - the big climb to the top at 19,340. He plans to take a photo after planting his Chicago Cubs flag at the top. This is very typical of my dad. He adores the Cubs, bleeds purple for the Wildcats, and pretends to like Wisconsin when they go to the Rose Bowl. I will be keeping an ear out for the shout out I requested from the top.

After the summit, they'll meander down to headquarters and prepare for R&R plus Safari in the Serengeti. Gotta say, of all the crazy stuff my dad has done (including biking across the country from southern California to Annapolis two and a half years ago, see below, he is arms raised, Paula to his right) this is #1. Best part is when they return for Christmas, Luke and I will already be at their house in Wisconsin so we can get the play by play (by play, by play, by play... he's a trial lawyer, he talks.. a lot).

I told Luke tonight that Grandpa Jimbo and Paula are climbing one of the tallest mountains in the world and he looked at me and said, "whoa, cool!." Yeah, pretty cool, old man. Now back to the prayer beads.

[Editor's note: Jim and Paula made it to the summit in one piece! 7:20 a.m. on Sunday, December 12. Take that, Martina.]