WELL BEHAVED WOMEN RARELY MAKE HISTORY

reading, writing and running from normalcy since 1993.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Woody

About 9 years ago I started to date McJackass. McJackass was on a pool team and occasionally I'd tag along with him to some of Union County's seedier establishments to play pool. On my first of these visits I sauntered up to the bar and ordered myself a Guinness. The man sitting next to me just stared and eventually he struck up a conversation with me. It turned out he was also on the pool team and he and I just hit it off. By the end of the night we were old friends. He introduced himself as Woody. I told McJackass that if I wasn't dating him Woody could not run fast enough from me.

And over the years our friendship grew. Every year we'd go to sporting events and the Springsteen concert became our summer ritual. Woody was like a little brother even though he was a couple of years older than me. He was an ex-Marine that valued his friends and his family above all else. Giants Stadium seats about 78,000 people and every time we went there we'd bump into 5 or 6 people that he knew. Everyone loved him.

Woody nursed me through 2 break-ups. After my break-up with McJackass I spent a week sleeping on his floor. When I found out I was pregnant I spent a week sleeping on his couch. I hadn't made a decision about what I was going to do and he very patiently and very impartially helped me weigh all my options. When I decided I could raise a child on my own he became my biggest cheerleader.

After my grandparents died he would often show up unannounced and press his bare ass against my glass door. He did immature things to make me laugh. When I complained that I need Mr. Little Man's father to be a functioning adult for the sake of his child he'd point out that I was incorrect because I never needed him before. He also had a talent for reminding me of the things I already knew.

Woody died on Tuesday. He had a stroke and was taken off of life support. Broken hearted does not even remotely begin to describe the way that I am feeling.

I will miss our annual arguments about who will win the Army / Navy game. I will miss discussing the college basketball brackets. I will miss playing fantasy sex camp with him (a story for another time). I will miss karaoke (he was an amazing singer), I will miss his stupid t-shirts and his stupid Marvin the Martian socks. I will even miss my life flashing before my eyes every time I get into a car with him.

I wonder who will now provide the entertainment at my Christmas party. I wonder who will now call my son by his actual given name and plow him full of chocolate when I'm not looking. I wonder who I'll call to come have "hangover breakfast" with me. Who will call me Schmoopie and send me texts with pictures of their conquests? Who will call me when I'm driving home and ask me to stop for a beer?

More than anything I will just miss his friendship, his love of life (and no one lived life to fullest more than he did and for that I am grateful) and his infectious laugh.



Donald Fallon
February 23 1968 - October 7 2008