I read something today that brought bittersweet memories. A very long time ago – it seems forever - I dated Christine. Of the girls I went out with Christine was the only one I could have gotten serious about. She was sweet and kind and so innocent. I went off to the crazy Asian war and Chris married another. She lucked out with a decent man and not a rogue like me.
As a young man I worked in Mill Number One at Russell Corporation. You all know the products as Southern Sporting Goods. Since I was tall and skinny my job was to lay up the material and cut the pattern for 36 dozen hooded sweatshirts in an eight hour shift. I worked with Kevin and an obstinate Yankee named Ed. It turned out that Kevin was Christine’s brother and Ed her uncle on her mama’s side. We shared many a supper break and many a story and we became friends. They talk funny in Cook County Illinois.
A couple of years ago I found that Kevin was killed by his own son. Tonight I learned that Ed passed away at the tender age of seventy-eight. Even though he was a textbook Yankee, Ed was my friend. It takes a long time to nurture a friendship.
He was born in a suburb of Chicago and grew up in Detroit. Then, like most folks from that frigid wasteland, he moved to Alabama to be near his sister (Christine’s mother). He met and married Suzanne, who was my age. Years have passed since I’ve seen him but feelings never changed.
Yesterday Ed began his journey – travel well my friend!
As a young man I worked in Mill Number One at Russell Corporation. You all know the products as Southern Sporting Goods. Since I was tall and skinny my job was to lay up the material and cut the pattern for 36 dozen hooded sweatshirts in an eight hour shift. I worked with Kevin and an obstinate Yankee named Ed. It turned out that Kevin was Christine’s brother and Ed her uncle on her mama’s side. We shared many a supper break and many a story and we became friends. They talk funny in Cook County Illinois.
A couple of years ago I found that Kevin was killed by his own son. Tonight I learned that Ed passed away at the tender age of seventy-eight. Even though he was a textbook Yankee, Ed was my friend. It takes a long time to nurture a friendship.
He was born in a suburb of Chicago and grew up in Detroit. Then, like most folks from that frigid wasteland, he moved to Alabama to be near his sister (Christine’s mother). He met and married Suzanne, who was my age. Years have passed since I’ve seen him but feelings never changed.
Yesterday Ed began his journey – travel well my friend!
