Tuesday, November 23, 2004
And Ms. Pacman is hot.
So today, I read my horoscope, and it said something about this tale of two mice who were stuck in a bowl of butter. And how one of the mice gave up, but the other one worked really hard and somehow turned the butter into cream and got out. And it said I have what is in me to do what that mouse did, that it is in the stars. This makes me so happy. Giddy really. It just does.
I made a lot of money at lunch today. I had hardly any tables either. I think it's just because I couldn't stop smiling. And that was before I read my horoscope even, ha!
Tonight I'm going to practice. I love going to practice. I look forward to it all the time. It's pretty much been every week night.
And you know what else? Did I tell you that in two months I'm quitting my job and taking 17 hours at school? I'm so excited about that. Nine of them are on tape. I've been saying this to all my friends, but seriously, I'm going to roll out of bed in my flannel pajamas, eat avocado and mushroom sandwiches and strum my guitar while watching communication theory and shit. Hell, yes.
And do you know what else? Cake is coming in December, and then Jimmy Eat World is coming in January, and Jill Scott in February. Jill Scott!
Wow. Sometimes it is so amazing how many good things can happen all at once. Almost always seems like the opposite is more likely. Guess the world really does work in strange ways.
So today, I read my horoscope, and it said something about this tale of two mice who were stuck in a bowl of butter. And how one of the mice gave up, but the other one worked really hard and somehow turned the butter into cream and got out. And it said I have what is in me to do what that mouse did, that it is in the stars. This makes me so happy. Giddy really. It just does.
I made a lot of money at lunch today. I had hardly any tables either. I think it's just because I couldn't stop smiling. And that was before I read my horoscope even, ha!
Tonight I'm going to practice. I love going to practice. I look forward to it all the time. It's pretty much been every week night.
And you know what else? Did I tell you that in two months I'm quitting my job and taking 17 hours at school? I'm so excited about that. Nine of them are on tape. I've been saying this to all my friends, but seriously, I'm going to roll out of bed in my flannel pajamas, eat avocado and mushroom sandwiches and strum my guitar while watching communication theory and shit. Hell, yes.
And do you know what else? Cake is coming in December, and then Jimmy Eat World is coming in January, and Jill Scott in February. Jill Scott!
Wow. Sometimes it is so amazing how many good things can happen all at once. Almost always seems like the opposite is more likely. Guess the world really does work in strange ways.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
When did I get to be so callous?
I remember a Friday night a couple weeks ago, sitting on the Numbers patio talking to friends about who was going to Dan's funeral. Craig's left hand in my right. A strawberry bidi in my left. And someone asked me what I was smoking.
"Oh, it's a bidi," I said. "A flavored tobacco leaf rolled by Indian slave children. Goes against everything I stand for," I said, blowing out the smoke in half-laughter.
Today I walked into the Downtown specialty tobacco store a block up the street from my work. Two men were smoking cigars and talking in business suits. I asked the man behind the counter if he sold bidis there.
"No, I quit selling those years ago when I found out they are manufactured with child labor."
"Oh," I said quietly. "OK, thanks."
And I left, just like that.
I could see Cara, in a t-shirt and torn-kneed bell bottoms with embroided flowers, protesting the war at a march some two years ago. I could see her shouting the rhyming anti-Bush sentiments. I could see her writing opinion columns. I could see her having a conversation with the man behind the counter about the world and all the injustice and all the horrible circumstances in it.
And I saw her turn left at the green light, pull up a chair on the local coffeeshop patio around the corner, pick up a Houston Press and open it to the music listings, sit comfortably, and light one up.
I remember a Friday night a couple weeks ago, sitting on the Numbers patio talking to friends about who was going to Dan's funeral. Craig's left hand in my right. A strawberry bidi in my left. And someone asked me what I was smoking.
"Oh, it's a bidi," I said. "A flavored tobacco leaf rolled by Indian slave children. Goes against everything I stand for," I said, blowing out the smoke in half-laughter.
Today I walked into the Downtown specialty tobacco store a block up the street from my work. Two men were smoking cigars and talking in business suits. I asked the man behind the counter if he sold bidis there.
"No, I quit selling those years ago when I found out they are manufactured with child labor."
"Oh," I said quietly. "OK, thanks."
And I left, just like that.
I could see Cara, in a t-shirt and torn-kneed bell bottoms with embroided flowers, protesting the war at a march some two years ago. I could see her shouting the rhyming anti-Bush sentiments. I could see her writing opinion columns. I could see her having a conversation with the man behind the counter about the world and all the injustice and all the horrible circumstances in it.
And I saw her turn left at the green light, pull up a chair on the local coffeeshop patio around the corner, pick up a Houston Press and open it to the music listings, sit comfortably, and light one up.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Love rain down on me, on me, down on me
Today I had the whole day off. And I decided to visit my mother.
It came to me that I missed my parents a lot when I was camping at Anja's last weekend. See, my family has been going camping for Thanksgiving just about every year since I was a sophomore in high school.
Back then, my sister Renee and I never wanted to go. We would have rather spent the time off from school with our friends. We were too cool for camping, or so we thought.
But I've grown to enjoy it so much the last few years. The cold air. The fire. The food. Getting to use a Mag Lite. And how time just seems to stop out there, and how when you pack up your car to leave you know you won't have to think about work or school or anything at all ... for a little while.
In memory of last Thanksgiving, when my dad showed up with a bottle of Hot Damn to pass around the late night fire, making my mother so entertainingly giggly, I bought a bottle for my camping trip. And like my mother, actually ended up passing out earlier than anyone else ...
It was nice to see her today. And I could tell how surprised and happy she was that I came by for no reason.
We talked for a long time. I asked her to tell me the story of how she met my father. He was gone on a hunting trip tonight, and actually should be getting home anytime now; he's coming home early because of the weather.
But she and I sat and I watched her eyes light up as she smiled and told the story, remembering the little details. She even remembered what she was wearing. The only thing fuzzy about it was whether she wore black or white socks.
It's funny how people always remember those things. The littlest ones. How your mind just stores it up as if it were so devastingly and amazingly important. Meanwhile, your brain can reject so many other things, like what you had for breakfast in the morning.
I like hearing stories like that. I didn't want to tell my mother's here. It crossed my mind, but it's hers. Maybe through reading this you'll remember one of yours. Maybe while I'm writing this I'll think about mine.
Today I had the whole day off. And I decided to visit my mother.
It came to me that I missed my parents a lot when I was camping at Anja's last weekend. See, my family has been going camping for Thanksgiving just about every year since I was a sophomore in high school.
Back then, my sister Renee and I never wanted to go. We would have rather spent the time off from school with our friends. We were too cool for camping, or so we thought.
But I've grown to enjoy it so much the last few years. The cold air. The fire. The food. Getting to use a Mag Lite. And how time just seems to stop out there, and how when you pack up your car to leave you know you won't have to think about work or school or anything at all ... for a little while.
In memory of last Thanksgiving, when my dad showed up with a bottle of Hot Damn to pass around the late night fire, making my mother so entertainingly giggly, I bought a bottle for my camping trip. And like my mother, actually ended up passing out earlier than anyone else ...
It was nice to see her today. And I could tell how surprised and happy she was that I came by for no reason.
We talked for a long time. I asked her to tell me the story of how she met my father. He was gone on a hunting trip tonight, and actually should be getting home anytime now; he's coming home early because of the weather.
But she and I sat and I watched her eyes light up as she smiled and told the story, remembering the little details. She even remembered what she was wearing. The only thing fuzzy about it was whether she wore black or white socks.
It's funny how people always remember those things. The littlest ones. How your mind just stores it up as if it were so devastingly and amazingly important. Meanwhile, your brain can reject so many other things, like what you had for breakfast in the morning.
I like hearing stories like that. I didn't want to tell my mother's here. It crossed my mind, but it's hers. Maybe through reading this you'll remember one of yours. Maybe while I'm writing this I'll think about mine.
Monday, November 15, 2004
I'm not livin' in the real world, I'm not livin' in the real world
Have I told you how much Eat to the Beat rocks? But then again, you probably already knew that. But maybe you can tell me where I can get another tape of it, because mine is wearing out rather quickly ...
I had a pretty awesome weekend. I got to see Craig, and I got to go camping out on Anja's ranch, and I got to see Craig again, and I got to practice with my band. It was all rather excellent, if I do say so.
Today it was back to work. Work sucked. A lot. Today. So did being trailed by a cop for several minutes on UH campus for no apparent reason. Fuckers, man. I'm extra paranoid too since my registration is expired.
What else? You don't want to hear about it. Just a bunch of happy thoughts sweeter than candy.
Alas, we are about to practice again. Catch you on the flipside. Yes, I just said that.
Have I told you how much Eat to the Beat rocks? But then again, you probably already knew that. But maybe you can tell me where I can get another tape of it, because mine is wearing out rather quickly ...
I had a pretty awesome weekend. I got to see Craig, and I got to go camping out on Anja's ranch, and I got to see Craig again, and I got to practice with my band. It was all rather excellent, if I do say so.
Today it was back to work. Work sucked. A lot. Today. So did being trailed by a cop for several minutes on UH campus for no apparent reason. Fuckers, man. I'm extra paranoid too since my registration is expired.
What else? You don't want to hear about it. Just a bunch of happy thoughts sweeter than candy.
Alas, we are about to practice again. Catch you on the flipside. Yes, I just said that.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Jelly Beans
I'm kind of sad today. My phone quit working last night. Turns out, it has water damage, god knows how. This means I lost the phone numbers of something like 200 friends. This makes me so sad.
I'm frustrated with my situation of living. I still do not have a home. I have been staying on an extra bed in Anja's dorm room for the past week, but she needs her space, understandably, so I'm about to begin staying with my friend Dela from work. Then soon, at the end of the month, I will be housesitting for my friend Krissy and taking care of her dog and cat for three weeks.
In January, Nathan, Nikki and I are hoping to move into a cheap three bedroom house. That is a really good thing, because we will be able to practice together all the time. This band may be the best thing going on in my life.
It is a toss-up between that and my new boyfriend.
It's not exactly official, but I don't mind calling him that. He's the guy from the club. Remember? The one I saw dancing under the lights. Craig.
He's handsome, and intelligent, and stylish, and considerate, and more than I could have hoped for.
But every good thing has it's price. Mine is time. He is significantly younger than me. But I like to think the age difference buys us time. It forces us to spend time apart. It allows us to go slow.
Anja, Nikki and I visited a psychic a few weeks ago. The experience was kind of funny. I wanted to write about it, but then Dan died, and nothing seemed funny anymore.
One thing she did say to me was to take things slow. To not try to go up so fast. She said otherwise the course I take could be a painful one.
I started smoking again, a couple days before the funeral. I've been buying bidis because they're cheaper, and they smell better than cigarettes. Plus, I can tell myself I'm not a smoker since they're not cigarettes. Er something.
What else? Craig. I like him so much, but he is so young. I love every moment I am privileged to spend with him.
He is talented too. He plays guitar, and he knows the words to just about every song ever. And he is sweet. He sends me messages all the time, saying he misses me and stuff.
It's going to be very difficult, but the decision has already been made. My friends are divided between accepting and not.
It's hard for them to accept what they cannot understand, but it's weird how much I don't care about that. It hurts my feelings, yes, when my friends say some of the things they do, but I can count just as many who are excited for me finding someone who makes me so happy.
I'm kind of sad today. My phone quit working last night. Turns out, it has water damage, god knows how. This means I lost the phone numbers of something like 200 friends. This makes me so sad.
I'm frustrated with my situation of living. I still do not have a home. I have been staying on an extra bed in Anja's dorm room for the past week, but she needs her space, understandably, so I'm about to begin staying with my friend Dela from work. Then soon, at the end of the month, I will be housesitting for my friend Krissy and taking care of her dog and cat for three weeks.
In January, Nathan, Nikki and I are hoping to move into a cheap three bedroom house. That is a really good thing, because we will be able to practice together all the time. This band may be the best thing going on in my life.
It is a toss-up between that and my new boyfriend.
It's not exactly official, but I don't mind calling him that. He's the guy from the club. Remember? The one I saw dancing under the lights. Craig.
He's handsome, and intelligent, and stylish, and considerate, and more than I could have hoped for.
But every good thing has it's price. Mine is time. He is significantly younger than me. But I like to think the age difference buys us time. It forces us to spend time apart. It allows us to go slow.
Anja, Nikki and I visited a psychic a few weeks ago. The experience was kind of funny. I wanted to write about it, but then Dan died, and nothing seemed funny anymore.
One thing she did say to me was to take things slow. To not try to go up so fast. She said otherwise the course I take could be a painful one.
I started smoking again, a couple days before the funeral. I've been buying bidis because they're cheaper, and they smell better than cigarettes. Plus, I can tell myself I'm not a smoker since they're not cigarettes. Er something.
What else? Craig. I like him so much, but he is so young. I love every moment I am privileged to spend with him.
He is talented too. He plays guitar, and he knows the words to just about every song ever. And he is sweet. He sends me messages all the time, saying he misses me and stuff.
It's going to be very difficult, but the decision has already been made. My friends are divided between accepting and not.
It's hard for them to accept what they cannot understand, but it's weird how much I don't care about that. It hurts my feelings, yes, when my friends say some of the things they do, but I can count just as many who are excited for me finding someone who makes me so happy.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Per piacere, forgive me for swimming in shallow waters ...
OK, this is really random, but damn, Jude Law is hot. I really like this one and this one. Oh. My. God. Nikki told me, but I didn't believe her. I was like, who the fuck is Jude Law. But damn.
OK, this is really random, but damn, Jude Law is hot. I really like this one and this one. Oh. My. God. Nikki told me, but I didn't believe her. I was like, who the fuck is Jude Law. But damn.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Epilogue
He went in his sleep. I want you to know that. The pronounced day he died was Saturday, Oct. 30. He died of an enlarged heart, a rare condition shocking many families in taking loved ones thousands of times a year.
When I met Dan's parents at the funeral, his father seemed more preoccupied with trying to make us feel better, even in the face of his own personal tragedy, the loss of his son. He said he never had to experience the kind of loss we must be feeling right now, while he was in college.
His mother gave me a hug. "He was my happy child," she said. And something about how sometimes she felt convinced his only goal in life was to make people happy.
"He did," I told her. "He really did."
I will never forget dropping the dirt in his grave. It's a Jewish tradition for families and friends to bury their own. I didn't have to, but I wanted to. I wanted to stare down into it. I wanted to make my own goodbye. But in the awkward moment that followed my decision, I realized just what I was doing in time to pass the shovel to Anja.
Nikki had been the one to pass it to me. I had held their hands in the line. Tears streamed eyes, she later told me she had a horrible fear she would lose hold of it.
I wrote a new song the other day, after the funeral. A song for Dan. Nikki is learning bass, and she, Nathan and I have been starting a band. As we worked on Dan's song, the emotional energy hit such heights I think it carried us all through. Nathan was close to Dan too. And I think this drove us even more to focus on what we were doing. It almost felt like something more than our own pure desire to play moved us.
And I guess the healing process has to start, because life keeps moving, and time passes, and financial responsibilities and the "real world" can't ever be ignored for long.
We're getting together again Thursday, to finish it. And we're going to work on one of Nathan's songs next.
I'm looking forward to our next practice. It's nice to have something to look forward to.
It's nice to have something.
He went in his sleep. I want you to know that. The pronounced day he died was Saturday, Oct. 30. He died of an enlarged heart, a rare condition shocking many families in taking loved ones thousands of times a year.
When I met Dan's parents at the funeral, his father seemed more preoccupied with trying to make us feel better, even in the face of his own personal tragedy, the loss of his son. He said he never had to experience the kind of loss we must be feeling right now, while he was in college.
His mother gave me a hug. "He was my happy child," she said. And something about how sometimes she felt convinced his only goal in life was to make people happy.
"He did," I told her. "He really did."
I will never forget dropping the dirt in his grave. It's a Jewish tradition for families and friends to bury their own. I didn't have to, but I wanted to. I wanted to stare down into it. I wanted to make my own goodbye. But in the awkward moment that followed my decision, I realized just what I was doing in time to pass the shovel to Anja.
Nikki had been the one to pass it to me. I had held their hands in the line. Tears streamed eyes, she later told me she had a horrible fear she would lose hold of it.
I wrote a new song the other day, after the funeral. A song for Dan. Nikki is learning bass, and she, Nathan and I have been starting a band. As we worked on Dan's song, the emotional energy hit such heights I think it carried us all through. Nathan was close to Dan too. And I think this drove us even more to focus on what we were doing. It almost felt like something more than our own pure desire to play moved us.
And I guess the healing process has to start, because life keeps moving, and time passes, and financial responsibilities and the "real world" can't ever be ignored for long.
We're getting together again Thursday, to finish it. And we're going to work on one of Nathan's songs next.
I'm looking forward to our next practice. It's nice to have something to look forward to.
It's nice to have something.
Sunday, November 07, 2004
Gimme a strong title, give me a strong mind
Funeral today. If you believe in god, please pray for me and my friends because I don't know what I believe. Sometimes songs are the only religion I have to hold onto.
Raining In My Heart
by Buddy Holly
The sun is out
The sky is blue
There's not a cloud
To spoil the view
But it's raining
Raining In My Heart
The Weather Man
Says "Clear today"
He doesn't know
You've gone away
And it's raining
Raining In My Heart
Oh misery - misery
What's gonna become of me
I tell my blues
They mustn't show
But soon these tears
Are bound to flow
Cause it's raining
Raining In My Heart
Raining In My Heart
Raining In My Heart
Die Young Stay Pretty
by Blondie
Die young, stay pretty
Die young, stay pretty
Deteriorate in your own time
Tell 'em you're dead and wither away
Are you living alone or with your family?
A dried up twig on your family tree?
Are you waiting for the reaper to arrive?
Or just to die by the hand of love?
Love for youth, love for youth
So, die young and stay pretty
Leave only the best behind
Slipping sensibilities
Tragedy in your own dream
Oh, you sit all alone in your rocking chair
Transistor pressed against an ear
Were you waiting at the bus stop all your life?
Or just to die by the hand of love?
Love for youth, love for youth
So live fast 'cause it won't last
Die young, stay pretty
Die young, stay pretty
Dearly near senility (dearly near senility)
Was it good or maybe you won't tell?
Die young, stay pretty
Die young, stay pretty
Funeral today. If you believe in god, please pray for me and my friends because I don't know what I believe. Sometimes songs are the only religion I have to hold onto.
Raining In My Heart
by Buddy Holly
The sun is out
The sky is blue
There's not a cloud
To spoil the view
But it's raining
Raining In My Heart
The Weather Man
Says "Clear today"
He doesn't know
You've gone away
And it's raining
Raining In My Heart
Oh misery - misery
What's gonna become of me
I tell my blues
They mustn't show
But soon these tears
Are bound to flow
Cause it's raining
Raining In My Heart
Raining In My Heart
Raining In My Heart
Die Young Stay Pretty
by Blondie
Die young, stay pretty
Die young, stay pretty
Deteriorate in your own time
Tell 'em you're dead and wither away
Are you living alone or with your family?
A dried up twig on your family tree?
Are you waiting for the reaper to arrive?
Or just to die by the hand of love?
Love for youth, love for youth
So, die young and stay pretty
Leave only the best behind
Slipping sensibilities
Tragedy in your own dream
Oh, you sit all alone in your rocking chair
Transistor pressed against an ear
Were you waiting at the bus stop all your life?
Or just to die by the hand of love?
Love for youth, love for youth
So live fast 'cause it won't last
Die young, stay pretty
Die young, stay pretty
Dearly near senility (dearly near senility)
Was it good or maybe you won't tell?
Die young, stay pretty
Die young, stay pretty
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Stability
"Picture something beautiful," Matt told me last night, gently brushing the tears off my eyes, drying them with his hands. It felt like guided meditation. His words brought me to a picture of a memory. The pier at summer camp across the periodically calm and choppy life water Vaughn Bay. The way the sunset looked across the purple dreamlike mountaintops in the distance.
Campfire the last night at camp. The pictures I took as I cried for the end of the much-anticipated, life-changing summer.
Matt talked to me, my eyes closed. He first brought me alone on a bench in my head overlooking the water. Then he brought in Ben Gibbard to sing my favorite songs in my ear.
I giggled a little at this, but suddenly, all at once, I could only cry harder.
I cried for the loss of our friend Dan. I cried for him like I am crying now, listening to the calming percussion and ghostlike vocals of the Stability EP, and wondering what stability is. If it exists at all.
For three years Dan has been my friend. Our friend, that is, especially those of us who became so close living in the dorms. Since that fall semester when I met Jeff. The time with all the parties and the laughter. When people I would grow to love barely knew me and carried my drunk ass to the car on my 21st birthday.
Dan loved drinking. But what he really loved to do was make sure everyone else was drunk. He'd wait until you'd had more than you needed to drink, and then he would order you a Long Island Iced Tea while you weren't looking.
Dan was Jewish, and he would tell all these terribly offensive yet horribly funny jokes about Jews and Jesus. We went through them all last night. Every last one we could remember. Filled the room with voices. Raised our glasses and liquor bottles to his memory.
"Dan wouldn't want us to all be sitting here crying like this," someone would say.
It's true. I'll always remember Dan with a smile on his face.
It's just that I feel so guilty. I feel so lucky to have known him. We all do. Many of us gathered last night. And many of us gathered tonight to miss him together.
We don't know how he died yet. It was very sudden. We just know he didn't go to any Halloween parties Saturday. And he was found in his apartment yesterday.
OK, I really want to stop writing now, and there just doesn't seem to be an appropriate way to end this, but maybe it's just as well, because I don't suppose the death of my friend at 21 years old was an appropriate ending either.
I loved him, though. I can say that. He was one of the kindest, most generous persons I have ever met. And intelligent. And he was humble in every way. In a quiet way.
And if I never learn anything about the meaning of life ever, I'm going to try to my damnedest to take a lesson from Dan.
Sometimes you don't have to do anything at all other than exist to make an impression on those who love you.
Dan was closer to graduating college than the snow is from hitting the Chicago skyscrapers this Christmas. He didn't get to have his graduation. He doesn't get to go on to graduate school or get married. He didn't cure any diseases. But he lead an extraordinary life through the friends he made. And through his religion and his love for his family.
We will mourn for him Sunday. We will miss him forever.
"Picture something beautiful," Matt told me last night, gently brushing the tears off my eyes, drying them with his hands. It felt like guided meditation. His words brought me to a picture of a memory. The pier at summer camp across the periodically calm and choppy life water Vaughn Bay. The way the sunset looked across the purple dreamlike mountaintops in the distance.
Campfire the last night at camp. The pictures I took as I cried for the end of the much-anticipated, life-changing summer.
Matt talked to me, my eyes closed. He first brought me alone on a bench in my head overlooking the water. Then he brought in Ben Gibbard to sing my favorite songs in my ear.
I giggled a little at this, but suddenly, all at once, I could only cry harder.
I cried for the loss of our friend Dan. I cried for him like I am crying now, listening to the calming percussion and ghostlike vocals of the Stability EP, and wondering what stability is. If it exists at all.
For three years Dan has been my friend. Our friend, that is, especially those of us who became so close living in the dorms. Since that fall semester when I met Jeff. The time with all the parties and the laughter. When people I would grow to love barely knew me and carried my drunk ass to the car on my 21st birthday.
Dan loved drinking. But what he really loved to do was make sure everyone else was drunk. He'd wait until you'd had more than you needed to drink, and then he would order you a Long Island Iced Tea while you weren't looking.
Dan was Jewish, and he would tell all these terribly offensive yet horribly funny jokes about Jews and Jesus. We went through them all last night. Every last one we could remember. Filled the room with voices. Raised our glasses and liquor bottles to his memory.
"Dan wouldn't want us to all be sitting here crying like this," someone would say.
It's true. I'll always remember Dan with a smile on his face.
It's just that I feel so guilty. I feel so lucky to have known him. We all do. Many of us gathered last night. And many of us gathered tonight to miss him together.
We don't know how he died yet. It was very sudden. We just know he didn't go to any Halloween parties Saturday. And he was found in his apartment yesterday.
OK, I really want to stop writing now, and there just doesn't seem to be an appropriate way to end this, but maybe it's just as well, because I don't suppose the death of my friend at 21 years old was an appropriate ending either.
I loved him, though. I can say that. He was one of the kindest, most generous persons I have ever met. And intelligent. And he was humble in every way. In a quiet way.
And if I never learn anything about the meaning of life ever, I'm going to try to my damnedest to take a lesson from Dan.
Sometimes you don't have to do anything at all other than exist to make an impression on those who love you.
Dan was closer to graduating college than the snow is from hitting the Chicago skyscrapers this Christmas. He didn't get to have his graduation. He doesn't get to go on to graduate school or get married. He didn't cure any diseases. But he lead an extraordinary life through the friends he made. And through his religion and his love for his family.
We will mourn for him Sunday. We will miss him forever.
