 Every time I log in to my new laptop, this thumbnail photo pops up on the left side of the desktop screen. It's my old friend, Mark. We were pretty good buddies back in the day, even before he became my brother-in-law. Mark was a wild man, who blazed through each day and lived life to the fullest. We had some fun and crazy times.
He also pissed me off sometimes. Like when the windshield wipers quit working on my Pontiac LeMans -- I drove several times in the rain, including along Houston freeways, with my window rolled down, left arm sticking out, using a rag to wipe the windshield -- and Mark said, "Hell, I can fix that." So I went and got a used or rebuilt wiper motor from somewhere and Mark put it in. Or tried to. During the installation, there was a loud pop and a shower of sparks, and I don't really remember what finally happened, but the outcome was not a good one, I remember that. I think I was driving a different car not too long after that. Time passed and after other assorted mishaps and adventures, Mark became my ex-brother-in-law and moved away -- Iowa, I think it was. Then, I heard he died, from diabetes. I'm not sure exactly how long ago that was, but he was pretty young, I think in his 40s. Then, yesterday, I find out that Robin Williams died. What a shock. The funniest man in the world, as one of his fellow comics described him -- how could he kill himself? And today's my birthday. No. 57. Born in 1957, turned 57. The numbers are starting to freak me out a little bit. Turning 30 was no big deal. I didn't care about turning 40 or even 50, but thinking about actually being 60 years old? Good grief. I get down sometimes, and I've been pretty seriously depressed in years past. I think it runs in my family. But, damn, I'm glad to be alive. Life is so damn good, you know?
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