A week of memories here. I lost my last best friend a year ago last week. Think about that phrase last best friend. He outlived all his friends. His son is the only one left that he was close to.
Frank was more than my friend. My Dad died when I was 21. Frank became my adult Dad. He knew before I did when I needed help and he slipped in and took care of it. He always knew someone that knew someone else that could make things large and small happen.
This weekend 55 years ago Frank lost his Sargent Major in an attack on his firebase. They were close. I always spent Labor Day listening to Frank talk about that day. The house was always full of people. His wife was not content unless there were 30+ people over having a drink.
It was my pleasure to sit with Frank, to listen to whatever he might care to talk about. He would not drink so fast when I sat beside him. And he sure had a lot to drink about.
Small world footnote. Frank commanded a Marine firebase of 155mm howitzers. The base force protection company was commanded by Charles Robb who was married to Lynda Bird Johnson.
Semper Fi, Devil Dog.
always faithful
Sorry to hear this, Bogey. It’s difficult to lose any friend and especially a best friend.
my wife and I are in good health thankfully but we’ve been visiting folks in the hospital the past several months. Some great medicine, but there’s only so much they can do.
That’s excellent medicine for all of you.
As long as you remember people, they are never really gone. I think about those that have passed when something reminds me of this person or that person. I am amazed at how many of my high school graduation class (1960) are still around. The school sent me a CD of their addresses and phone numbers and I called many or them. Keep those memories of your friend alive.
I believe that to be true. The damn thing is Bacall and I are the only ones we can talk to about him. His son gets almost prickly when we talk about his Dad. So damn many memories. Even simple ones, The Colonel was a cook. Learned from his GM, Every day he would leave the house looking for dinner. He would stop by stores until something appealed to him. He would work in shifts during the afternoon until at exactly 6:30 when gourmet hit the table. We learned many of his recipes and we can not eat them wo his memory.
You just introduced him to a lot of people that never knew him before. Six degrees of separation..
You would be amazed who you are connected with knowing me. I once met a guy who was an interpreter at the Nuremberg Trials.
I know what your saying, I haven’t been around and dont have your experience but one friend always sticks out in my mind., me looks at her panties on the wash line.
That’s a very touching story. Sorry for your loss and for all of the people that he touched also!