My Friend

Is dying.
The only man who ever wrote a song for me. Never mind that it was a parody song set to The Beach Boys "Barbara Ann".

He's just 61 years old.

He kicked the shit out of Burkitt's lymphoma last year. But cancer is a fucking bastard bully and would not leave him alone. He was diagnosed with Mantle cell lymphoma in May.
He went into the hospital last week and by Sunday he was on hospice. It won't be long.


I can tell you these things: he has the most booming laugh you ever heard. (he is also a world champion snorer). The crinkliest eyes when he smiles. You do not want to play Risk with him - he will win - at all cost. He co-wrote a book on making your own willow chair. He wrote a screenplay. He loves his Wildcats, cigars, politics, swing dancing, God, his friends, genealogy, music. Not necessarily in that order - except for the Wildcats.

Good night, sweet friend. Dream sweet dreams for you.