He's gone. Kevin Oldham. The angel and the hero has embarked on his final journey.
Now you should know if you are into facts, launch today was at 7:30 a.m. ... something I forgot pretty much around the third beverage last night.
Dudes ... Skeet Reese, one of my great friends out here, has the biggest truck I have ever seen that wasn't towing something like live chickens or Dunkin' Donuts.
Just bought this little pocket camera thing, like $79 bucks on Amazon, supposed to have 14 Gizallion Mega Picture taking things inside, so I thought I would take it out for a test shoot.
There are people on this planet put here for the sole purpose of saving us, from ourselves. They run to what we run from.
I didn't say this in the story, "Angels & Heroes," because we wanted to keep it a surprise for Kevin, but all along we had planned to give Kevin the best seat in the house for the Bassmaster Classic weigh-in.
Here's the deal ... Denny's Grand Slam in the morning ... four cups coffee ... black. A meal that would pretty much last all day, if lunch was needed, two Butterfingers drowned by Vernor's.
Flux is my state of being. Movement is me. Not a pause kind of guy. I want eternally to be on the go.
When the giant of a man behind the cigar turned the ball over in my tiny 6-year-old hands so he could show me just three of the many signatures on the baseball.
After 30 some years in the business of mayhem, you harden to the upside-the-head whacks the universe hands out to humanity — the carnage we call civilization. When it comes to the victims, I tell myself, to escape from the mayhem on my keyboard or that viewed through my lens, that the vic's have had their time, be it long, or not so much, but they have had their time to laugh, to cry, to win, to lose, to be loved or — more importantly — to have loved.