Requiescat in pace, Radioactive
May. 9th, 2014 11:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Last night brought news of the death of a long-time friend. I'd known him since 1991, a story I'll tell in a moment. Like many of his friends from earlier years I'd fallen out of touch with him as he changed social circles. We saw each other a few times a year, usually bumping into each other at a party or concert. We'd catch up a bit and drift on. You always think there will be time later to sit down and renew a friendship.
Rich made many choices in changing his life and, as I said to MizA last night, his choices were not mine. But neither are my choices so stellar that I want to be criticizing the choices others make. They were his to make and he lived the life he made for himself, with its good and its bad. Regardless, I will not forget nor easily set aside the joys he brought to our occasions, or the times he made me welcome. That meant a lot to me, so herewith my favorite story of him.
The time is 1991 and I am very new to the area.
tamidon is about the only person I know and I am hugely intimidated by the tales I hear of a large social group who all seem to know each other and have history I don't share. Still, I am convinced to call a movie foo - back when we did such things - with pre-movie pizza at the Alewife Bertucci's.
To my amazement, people came and I found myself at a table Bertucci's staff hastily pulled together with a dozen strangers. Across from me were two guys who seemed a bit more boisterous than the others. Their names were Rich and Craig, and they were clearly back-slapping buddies. They seemed to be having trouble figuring out what to get, until the waitress announced that among the specials was a garlic pizza. Rich immediately lit up.
"I'd like the garlic pizza," he told her, "with extra garlic."
"Extra garlic?" she seemed a little incredulous.
Rich nodded emphatically: "If I can't smell the garlic out here then there's not enough garlic on it."
Then he grinned across the table at me and said, "You can have a slice."
And I knew I'd found my people.
Rich made many choices in changing his life and, as I said to MizA last night, his choices were not mine. But neither are my choices so stellar that I want to be criticizing the choices others make. They were his to make and he lived the life he made for himself, with its good and its bad. Regardless, I will not forget nor easily set aside the joys he brought to our occasions, or the times he made me welcome. That meant a lot to me, so herewith my favorite story of him.
The time is 1991 and I am very new to the area.
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To my amazement, people came and I found myself at a table Bertucci's staff hastily pulled together with a dozen strangers. Across from me were two guys who seemed a bit more boisterous than the others. Their names were Rich and Craig, and they were clearly back-slapping buddies. They seemed to be having trouble figuring out what to get, until the waitress announced that among the specials was a garlic pizza. Rich immediately lit up.
"I'd like the garlic pizza," he told her, "with extra garlic."
"Extra garlic?" she seemed a little incredulous.
Rich nodded emphatically: "If I can't smell the garlic out here then there's not enough garlic on it."
Then he grinned across the table at me and said, "You can have a slice."
And I knew I'd found my people.
no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 04:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-05-09 09:24 pm (UTC)That's a great story; I'm sorry I never got a chance to know him.