1 March 2013 so we’ll pretend this is 29 February and go from there.
Happy birthday Don. Lynn and I remember you still although Lynn missed your best years. Watching you sit on the garage floor smashing a trouble light to pieces is a good memory that very few will ever understand. You’re father coming out of the the kitchen to see what was going on, looking at me and raising a finger to say “I’ll be back when he calms down,” turning and heading back into the house and shortly after that with your fit of pique fading as fast as it came and finally leaving you, you said “I guess I owe the old man a new trouble light.”
Your son Scott makes me cry he’s so much like you. You know the spring line your dad allowed that girl across the street to tap into? It broke. Flooded the yard. The new resident called in a contractor and your serendipitously son arriving from Illinois missed the tinkle of water into the cistern and looked across the street. Like you he walked over with a smile and politely inquired of the workers and when they told him “It’s just an old spring line, we led it over the embankment to drain,” he exploded with “Are you some kind of stupid?”
Thank you for the beer, the parties, the food and the friendship. Thank you for all of those miles traveling in your cars to party, drink beer, eat and share stories with like minded people.
This was filmed with a camera-phone-thingy by some kid who had never seen a piano played at a party before and found it noteworthy. You shared with us this one last time your incredible talent on the piano and your knowledge of WWI party song. Miss you. Art
