Big Lew's Ride

Fiancé puncher, Ray Rice, won his appeal to have his suspension ended. Rice is now available to be signed by any NFL team. So which team is going to take a swipe at Rice?

Oil prices are at a four-year low. They have been dropping steadily except for that spike up a couple weeks ago when they had to use all that oil to grease up Kim Kardashian’s naked ass.

In Connecticut, a pig was kicked off a flight for being disruptive. This inability to have a pig fly does not bode well for the Chicago Cubs’ season.

Fiancé puncher, Ray Rice, won his appeal to have his suspension ended. Rice is available to be signed by any NFL team, but many teams have opted to buy a 10-foot pole instead.

Jose Conseco losing his middle finger in a poker game after it was re-attached when he shot it off, reminds me of the story a while ago of the Englishman who shot off his middle finger with a shotgun due to a painful wart. Good thing he didn't have jock itch. 

Yes, I know it sucks when people tell their dreams, but this one bears repeating.

So, over a year ago, it is a few days after my close, grade school friend, Steve Lewis,  in upstate New York, was placed in intensive care after a vicious relapse of cancer.

It is a repeating semi-anxiety dream I have: we, my old broker buddies and I, are in our bar in La Jolla, Jose’s, drinking margaritas.  Suddenly I realize I have to get back home to Carmel Valley, ten miles North, to make dinner for guests.

The problem? I don't have my car. 

Out of nowhere, Big Lew, his own self, pulls up in front of Jose’s in a foam-green, 1950’s rusty Ford pickup truck;

“Jump in, Big Al, I’ll give you a ride.”

We take a scenic route home along the ocean and catch up with old stories in a way only good friends can do. We laugh about games, friends, old girlfriends and teachers. Decades just melt away. He asks about my family, he tells me about his.  

"Hotel California" comes on the radio.

We even joke about how we've always called ourselves Big Al and Big Lew, but we may have gotten bigger in the middle than we wanted to.

It was getting near sunset and the sky was a beautiful orange.

Finally we pull up in front of my house. When I invite him to come in, he just shakes his head. I ask;

“Where are you going?” He says;

“To the hospital.”

And then I watch as he drives away.

Big Lew passed the next day.