The other day I got word that a high school friend had recently died. I won't say his name because his daughter has
requested to keep it quiet. This guy,
although as likable as he was, stayed in
trouble. In high school it was
mischievous trouble, which we all did in
our group, but he graduated to bigger things, like fraud, bad checks,
drugs, and so on. He knew how to be
charming and shoot the shit with the best.
Several years ago someone saw him in his white country
prisoner's uniform on the side of the road having a cigarette with one of the
overseers while the other overseer and another convict were digging the hole on the roadside.
He had a drinking problem, a drug problem, a diabetic
problem, and other problems.
Back in high school once I
bought a nice white windbreaker. I
thought it looked sharp. So did my
friend, he asked to borrow it, promising me he would return it the next time he
saw me. Several times I asked him for it
back and he always had a bizarre, but an imaginative story, why he couldn't give
it back at that moment. Finally he
avoided running into me. If he saw me
get out of my car at Varners, he would quickly leave.
A friend that called
and told me said they were just letting his close friends know of his death,
and the friend sounded a little hurt when he said, "I guess they didn't
think much of me, I had to learn second handed."
I said, "And I third handed".
For this I am going to use Joe as the deceased's name. When my live friend was told Joe had died he
asked how did he die. He was told,
"Just being Joe."
Now, I won't ever get that white jacket back.
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