|Sunset at Avalon Harbor|
I got busted by a friend the other day. Justifiably. For an obsessive scribe I sure am a shitty letter writer. I favor short, terse, impersonal replies. And it is pretty awful really because I get some very lovely notes from my friends and can't be bothered to respond with much more than a grunt? Such horrible manners. Really. I can say that it is a conservation of energy thing because I write so much but it would merely be a bullshit excuse.
The blog touches a thousand people a day on a decent day. But it is no excuse either to ignore my close friends or to glean their personal communications for blog fodder. I can't forget the personal. I apologize. My bad.
I have a large network of friends and associates. I think that I usually keep up with the ins and outs of the movements and personalities but there are times things simply pass me by.
I was shocked the other day to hear from Terry S. that Bob Joyce had passed away around Thanksgiving. A picker and antique dealer par excellence, Bob was from Omaha, a near constant sidekick to Terry, Vickie and Jan. A good friend of mine for many years. And to many others.
Unconventional and unbroken, like many of us.
A man who lived his life on his own terms.
I don't know much about his passing. Bradford said he might have heard that they found him in bed with a smile on his face. Hope it is true.
We will miss you Bob. Another one bites the dust.