"When my only real high school buddy, Bob Cisco, threatened to kill himself, I didn't believe that he would do it. I was right. He didn't end his life by his own hand that time. While I had departed from that church, Bob had become a Catholic.



I'm sure that you remember Bob. He strutted his white four-year letterman's sweater which he had to earn by managing the football team's locker room. He was the skinny, non-athletic, blond-haired, blue-eyed kid, with the big head, and the funny name. And Bob was the genius kid who didn't graduate with our class because his attitude and bruised ego prevented him from making up one sophomore English credit."

I guess I'm including Bob in my bio because he will never have a chance to write his own. He wasn't very popular, either. I remember seeing him "Taken down" in the hall, having his tennis shoe removed, and the laughter when it wasn't a "Converse."

I was proud of my friend and 3-man debate team partner when (the year after Dave Watts and I were kicked off the forensics squad for a curfew violation at the State Championships) Bob won all of the speech trophies, himself. I didn't doubt that he had earned a scholarship. Yet, Bob never admitted to anyone that he was lacking a necessary credit, nor advised by someone in authority strongly enough to take a summer school class.

I worked by his side when we sold women's shoes. When I went on to college, I respected the fact that Bob became a journeyman carpenter.

I stood as his best man when he was married, as he had by me the first time I wed. I cried with Bob when he did something stupid, lost his restaurant on 82nd and Foster, and got a divorce.

He catered my oldest daughter's large wedding at "Welshes," Mt. Hood resort, as his gift. I saw him cut his middle finger off on his band saw making a toolbox for me. We were friends a long time.

I was een there to see his weeping sister, Kaye, carry away his ashes in Arizona, last year too.

Perhaps, I'll write more in my bio later? I've been up all night reflecting. I don't really feel to well at this moment. It's probably the MS (Multiple Sclerosis). Funny, I don't remember learning about its warning signs in health class, or maybe Bob and I skipped school that day? For now, I'll post this...