"Always, Bud."

Another staple of childhood is gone. Guiding Light went dark today.

I spend all day at the hospital . . . as for the last two days, babies have been non-stop raining down from the sky. I attended two C-Sections and determinedly worked through lunch, finishing my last chart-note in the nursery just before 3 o'clock. I realized I did not have enough time to get home without missing something. So I ducked into an unoccupied backroom on the LDRP unit, turned off the lights, and turned on "my soap" for the last time.

And I was pleasantly surprised by the grand old soap's last twenty minutes on-air.

Cue happy ending. I'm not sure how it happened . . . or what happened . . . in that year-preceding-the-last-twenty-minutes. But it involved two chronically star-crossed lovers meeting at the lighthouse, and H.B. Lewis's old Ford pick-up truck. And it totally worked for me.

"Always, Bud."