This week has been tough for losing people. In Michael Jackson’s heyday I never paid much attention to his music. I was too intent on working my way through the corporate world. Some years later I happened to watch one of his videos – Thriller. I was hooked and became a fan. To coin a phrase from the past, this week the music died.
Also, we at least have imprinted in our minds the Farrah Fawcett poster of 1976. Another icon too early lost.
Although these people make a lasting impression on us, the loss of someone close has a deeper effect. A couple of weeks ago I lost a good friend, Bill Hautop, with whom I played softball and racquetball. An energetic and vibrant man, Bill had a zest for life and was always ready to give a helping hand. Last year we attended his 50th wedding anniversary. Already by this time the ravages of a couple of massive heart attacks took its toll on this man.
All though my march to 70 has been eased by the discovery of my daily candy, this week proved extremely taxing for me. I learned a dear friend, Barbara Pernice, succumbed to widespread cancer. Barb and her husband, Sal, traveled extensively with us in the past. Always trim with and elegantly coiffed, she was a picture of beauty.
Barb had a penchant for using the facilities wherever we went. We kidded her – you must write a book about the W.C.’s [toilets] of Europe. “Well, Barb,” one of us would chide, “Gibraltor can be chapter 72.”
During what turned out to be her final weeks, I had a note on my desk at home to call them for a visit. As time would have it, I kept putting it off because of one thing or another. How bad I feel for not taking the time to see her. Barbara will be sorely missed by everyone who knew her.
Where is my candy for this day? It rests in my mind, it exists in the laughs we had, it is with the pleasurable times we shared. I will never forget her.
Ciao
Also, we at least have imprinted in our minds the Farrah Fawcett poster of 1976. Another icon too early lost.
Although these people make a lasting impression on us, the loss of someone close has a deeper effect. A couple of weeks ago I lost a good friend, Bill Hautop, with whom I played softball and racquetball. An energetic and vibrant man, Bill had a zest for life and was always ready to give a helping hand. Last year we attended his 50th wedding anniversary. Already by this time the ravages of a couple of massive heart attacks took its toll on this man.
All though my march to 70 has been eased by the discovery of my daily candy, this week proved extremely taxing for me. I learned a dear friend, Barbara Pernice, succumbed to widespread cancer. Barb and her husband, Sal, traveled extensively with us in the past. Always trim with and elegantly coiffed, she was a picture of beauty.
Barb had a penchant for using the facilities wherever we went. We kidded her – you must write a book about the W.C.’s [toilets] of Europe. “Well, Barb,” one of us would chide, “Gibraltor can be chapter 72.”
During what turned out to be her final weeks, I had a note on my desk at home to call them for a visit. As time would have it, I kept putting it off because of one thing or another. How bad I feel for not taking the time to see her. Barbara will be sorely missed by everyone who knew her.
Where is my candy for this day? It rests in my mind, it exists in the laughs we had, it is with the pleasurable times we shared. I will never forget her.
Ciao
No comments:
Post a Comment