Here I am in the “Oldest Town In Texas.” That has been the claim many years here in Nacogdoches. I lived here, went to and graduated from college here, and worked here, nearly as many years as I lived with my parents before leaving my hometown for the Navy.
I have partyied like a big dog here in what some college kids and others called “Nacanowhere.” I bet many a person who complained of what a small, nothing town, they were in, now wish they could be back here and in college at the age in which they attended. I have also loved here. A few of those were serious and some not so much.
Best of all, I made many friends here–those in school, and others — from my working as a firefighter and later a news paper reporter. But I am not here to see friends, old flames or otherwise. I am here to remember the life of my friend, Rick, who died earlier this week at the age of 61.
I don’t think I could write a memorial or an obituary for Rick, although I am more than capable of doing so. I believe I could do a better job in writing of the things we did and shared at some later date. As in “the book” I have yet to write. Rick’s death, at 61, reminds me I need to get busy, on a book and on other matters. I say this as I turned 60 last month.
Hopefully, I will write more about this unusual, talented and very funny man. His obituary in the paper — the same one where I reported and wrote for nearly four years — reminded me of the many things he had been able to do such as his work as a nurse, a mechanic and not too long ago, owning a vending machine service.
I write this as all hell breaks loose with terrorists shooting down scores of people in Paris. It was a better day when Rick was here, not that he could do anything about the terror attack. But things were a bit better yesterday. Au revoir.