I don't usually go in for stuff like this, but I feel that I need to say something about my best friend, who died unexpectedly, probably of a heart attack,
at just 56 years of age. I find his death baffling and infuriating, but I know, given his faith, that he is at peace.
Larry wasn't a fisherman, but he was an outdoorsman through and through, and loved the wilderness, including Alaska and Maine and especially the Rockies, where he lived for a few years. He arranged a guided trip for me on the South Platte for my 50th birthday several years ago, and went along -- he had never fly-fished before, but he netted a 20-inch brown. I didn't.
After he moved back east he sometimes accompanied me on fishing outings; he would hike while I fished. He was amused by my bamboo infatuation, but he had no room to talk - he was a train nut. In fact, he and I and my son rode the last through-trip of the Rio Grande Zephyr (the real one), from Denver to Salt Lake City, 25 years ago; the track washed out behind us and no other trains got through on that route before the line
"resumed service" under Amtrak operation.
Larry was a deacon in his church (Presbyterian) and I know considered me spiritually hopeless, casual Catholic that I am, but he maintained an air of patience and tolerance. He was godfather to my youngest daughters and was looking forward to moving back west when my daughter attends college out there (we hope).
The lesson for me is this: Live your life well and charitably, so that when it ends, no one can say you weren't ready.
I loved him like a brother and will miss him the rest of my life. Go with God, my friend.
Lon
P.S. If this belongs under a different heading, moderators, please feel free to move it.
Larry wasn't a fisherman, but he was an outdoorsman through and through, and loved the wilderness, including Alaska and Maine and especially the Rockies, where he lived for a few years. He arranged a guided trip for me on the South Platte for my 50th birthday several years ago, and went along -- he had never fly-fished before, but he netted a 20-inch brown. I didn't.
After he moved back east he sometimes accompanied me on fishing outings; he would hike while I fished. He was amused by my bamboo infatuation, but he had no room to talk - he was a train nut. In fact, he and I and my son rode the last through-trip of the Rio Grande Zephyr (the real one), from Denver to Salt Lake City, 25 years ago; the track washed out behind us and no other trains got through on that route before the line
"resumed service" under Amtrak operation.
Larry was a deacon in his church (Presbyterian) and I know considered me spiritually hopeless, casual Catholic that I am, but he maintained an air of patience and tolerance. He was godfather to my youngest daughters and was looking forward to moving back west when my daughter attends college out there (we hope).
The lesson for me is this: Live your life well and charitably, so that when it ends, no one can say you weren't ready.
I loved him like a brother and will miss him the rest of my life. Go with God, my friend.
Lon
P.S. If this belongs under a different heading, moderators, please feel free to move it.
