Norman

The past few weeks have been saddening for me, mostly because a boy I grew up with and have known all my life passed away. Norman was seventy-one years old when he died and was the oldest of and the leader of the community kids with whom I played. Norman was my main influence to join the National Rifle Association when I was young. He had a great sense of humor which the rest of us had to pay for in sometimes embarrassing situations. He lived a good life and had a great family. The color photo is his obituary photo for the newspaper and the other one is part of our gang from the mid-1950′s. Norman is the tallest and I am the long-legged kid at his side. Others are his brother, his two cousins, and his sister. The photo was made in my grandmother’s front yard and his family’s home is the white house just over Norman’s left shoulder. Losing someone such as a life-long friend is the most difficult part of growing old; much more difficult than any physical infirmities. The memories are cherished but the reality of the present is a bit overwhelming.