The Super Bowl jarred loose a flood of memories of a dear friend who passed away.
Jerry, who I referred to in Saturday's post was a rabid Colts fan. Where ever he is he probably isn't a happy camper today because of that loss the Colts suffered at the hands of the New Orleans Saints. He died way too young of heart disease. He was in his mid-forties and was close to the same age his father was when his dad died from a heart attack.
Anyway, my first ex-wife stopped by yesterday with enough cigarettes to get me through to check time. She also brought some goodies for me to enjoy during the game. As we talked for a brief while before she left to watch the game Jerry's name came up in the conversation.
I mentioned my prediction that was written in this blog (Which she will hopefully never find.). We talked about things we remembered about him, his darling wife, wonderful kids and sweet mother.
Jerry and I were close friends from our mid teens onward. We got into trouble together, partied, had adventures, chased girls and did the things normal for young men our ages. We each married our respective sweethearts and started families. We kept in touch fairly regularly, but as time passed contact dropped off. Family, work, living in different cities and other interests conspired against us.
I remember my last phone conversation with Jerry. He seemed annoyed and disinterested in what was being said. I later found out that may well have been because of his drinking problems. He was living in an apartment away from his family when he died.
He did go to rehab for his problem and had accumulated some sober time before his death. Living away from his family was probably one of those things that the rehab and or AA jerkoffs recommend so that one can "concentrate on their recovery."
That was almost 15 years ago and for some reason I still feel bad about that whole thing. I really don't know why I still harbor that negative feeling surrounding his passing. Chances are that he still would have gone had he been home with his wife and kids.
Maybe not having woken up dead, surrounded by his wife and kids was for the best. He was found in bed by his wife though. They were working on getting back together and after she hadn't heard from him, went to check up.
Anyway the Super Bowl brought back happy memories of the time we spent with him. Also of his mother who taught us clumsy "No Good Bums" as she used to call us, how to do the Polka.She also pleaded with the C-O-P-S not to confiscate our fireworks on one July 4Th celebration.
She was a WWII war bride from Poland who showed us much about the joys of life. I think she probably saw more than enough of life's misery before she came to Erie.
Anyway, I had to get this stuff written out someplace.
Or are those things better left rolling around in our minds.
Naw, it felt good talking about Jerry yesterday. It feels good writing about him today.
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