This Might Be the Last Time I Don't Know...

I have been marking my mortality this year. I'm the same age as my dad was when he passed. My knee hurts. Cathy made our wills. Every few days I see an obit for some one I know. Not an old person but someone close to my age. 

 When  I was about 17 years old I spent a summer working construction. Good pay for the time at $2.25 an hour. I was a big old boy and did well pushing wheel barrows full of dirt and concrete. I don't remember it even being hot. I do remember there were older guys on the job who seemed cool. They arrived each day to work in late 60s/early 70s muscle cars, not real clean muscle cars but cars that had been once owned by cooler guys who had already got the goody out of running the heck out of those big motors. My guys did ok with a fill up the oil check the gas kind of muscle car.  The morning after a night of racing around in these cars and they usually had a pretty good hangover. 

I remember one of these guys was nicknamed "Fish." I saw Fish's obit the other day and even though it did not mention what his nickname had been (I want ya'll to make sure and list "mudbelly" in my obit) it did have a photo of him in which he looked just about how I recalled his appearance from that summer we worked together. It also listed his age as 72. So that means when I knew him I was 17 and he was 23. I thought he was 72 back then. 

Later this week I'll get these documents signed and notarized. Godspeed Fish. I'll think about your nickname from time to time. I think my knee feels a little better.