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I was looking back through some of my emails with Boss Mongo. A couple years ago, we once again nearly had the chance to get together for a bourbon or three. But then he had some problems with his house, and he was having some health problems, and he had to cancel. This was part of his email, explaining that he couldn’t make it:
We’ve had a couple medical issues (serious stuff, not imaginary), we’ve had some housing issues (getting evicted after H. Irma so my landlord could his hands on some of that sweet, sweet FEMA money. But, still. I’m amazed at how much effort it takes to get through the day, when I thought I’d get to downshift into “cruise” at this point. Still, absotively posolutely I would leap at the chance to sit down and have a dynamic conversation with you and your pops.
Just saying: I am not currently a man of leisure. But someday I will be. Yes I will.
I responded that I was sorry to hear of his health problems. He responded:
They picayune, niggling difficulties. More’n a couple times I should’ve been Dead Right There. So every day is a good day. As I’ve told my kids when they’re amazed that I don’t go into Hulk mode over this kind of stuff: Hey, I’m not even on borrowed time, I’m on gifted time.
We tried several other times to get together, but one of us was always busy. And then, Boss dies a few days ago at the age of 54.
I should’ve just gotten into my damn car and driven all the damn way to the Keys to his damn house and had a damn bourbon with the guy. I should’ve made time. Just showed up on his doorstep.
But I didn’t.
I figured that at some point, we would both be men of leisure. Yes, we would.
Or maybe not.
Boss was 54 years old. His gifted time ended unexpectedly. You just never know, I suppose…
If there’s someone you’d like to go see, perhaps you should go see them.
Tell them Boss sent you.Published in