You just went off to bed and left me here with BB and Lucille working on
"The Midnight Blues" and I figure it's a good time to try and do what Robin
asked.
She said remember things that would make you laugh. What puts me away is how
you can laugh in the middle of all this. How you can take stuff that nearly
stops me from breathing when I think about it and cut it down to size with one
of those gross, black comments you're getting so good at....In a way, with all
respect to Robin, it feels presumptuous to try to make you laugh about anything.
Then I think about times like you mad at me for leaving the Jag out in the
parking lot at 4:00 a.m. and going down in your undershorts and sneakers to
out it in the garage not knowing the temperature had dropped thiry degrees and
locking yourself out and yelling under my window till I came out to let you in.
Or the time you were going to prove you could cook and freaked out when the
lobsters tried to climb out of the pot. Or when instead of three cloves of garlic
you tossed three heads of garlice (unpeeled) into the marinara sauce. And then ate
it, because no way were you giong to admit it was foul....I remember other things,
not funny, that will be with me for the rest of my life. The first time I saw you
with the other kids under the viaduct by the train yards, standing over the oil drum
fire, the light on your face and your teeth chattering while you pretended you weren't
freezing your tail off in a blue jean jacket with the wind coming off the lake and
nobody had a clue who ripped off my car radio....
I could go on with this all night, but that's not the point. The idea is we've shared
a lot of stuff, and I've learned a hell of a lot more from you than you have from me,
and I'm real grateful for that. And I love you man.
Sonny