My best friend Kevin J. is looking at back surgery on February 3rd, which is, coincidentally, his 39th birthday.

Kevin & I go WAY back... we met the summer after 7th grade & got into (and out of) more trouble together than it's safe to put in writing. For example, one time my dad let me borrow the car to drive to school because it was raining. I bumped into Kevin in the school parking lot, and he suggested we take the day off & drive down to Chicago. Just because.

Sounded like a good idea at the time.

We saw the Sears Tower, we stopped at the Field Museum, we almost killed a bus stop full of people as we skidded to a halt at a stoplight, and on the way out of town we got hopelessly lost and drove through some ghetto/slummy area where we were the only white people for 10 miles - except for one little old white lady pushing her little 2-wheel grocery basket down the street, whose presence remains a mystery to this day.

We made it out, eventually, and Dad never asked about the extra 300 miles on the car.

Good times, man. Good times.

Anyway, an operating table is staring this man in the face. Please say something to God or my comments or both.

Posted by: Harvey at 07:07 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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