Today would have been my buddy Tommy's 59th birthday. Note: would have been. Tommy died several years ago. I did not even know that he was sick because I had moved across the country to Maine and had been out of contact with him for some time. I found out about his death on fucking Facebook of all places.
Tommy would see great irony in this.
Tommy was, as they say, my brother from another mother. Silly maybe, but true.
When I was sinking in quicksand, Tommy was always there to throw me a rope. And a beer. Beer first, though, rope second. He insisted. I accepted.
Tommy was on his Death Bed asking "Where's my brother Toby?" I have never in my life been more humbled than when I learned of this. He's dying and he's thinking of me. Pretty fucking heavy duty, but not surprising actually because that's the kind of man Tommy was.
I shall keep this short because emotions are running high here at the Dumbass Dome and it's very difficult to type through the tears.
I miss you, Tommy.
You were a bad motherfucker - in a good way of course.
I'll never forget...Lynn right, Lynn left, Lynn up the middle with #33 leading the way. (obscure high school football reference)
I love you, man. But you still ain't gettin' my Bud Lite.