As a kid, I thought I could live forever (not sure what I thought I would look like when I was 'forever old,' but who worries about cosmetic details when you're eleven?)
At almost-seventy-four, I now know better, and if I didn't, I have it in writing.
One of the things that makes you feel older, I think, is when people you knew and worked with (in my case), almost half a century ago (let that sink in; it took me a minute, too), die. And in the last week, I had a double whammy.
All of us were radio and TV weenies and wouldn't have known how to cause trouble, or a bar fight if you gave us the manual, but we spent a lot of time that evening staring at 'kein eintritt' signs and glaring bouncers. Rik relocated to Berlin, then in West Germany, and never left, becoming a trusted voice for millions of radio listeners over the decades.
Dave was an amiable Texan with a honey in the rock voice and an easy-going personality. He wasn't the first Texan this kid from Joisey ever met, but he made quite the impression. There are expressions of his, almost five decades later, that I smile when I remember. 'Ugly enough to make a train run on a dirt road,' 'If it were a cooperhead, I'd be withering in pain,' and (of course) 'Dignity at all costs!'
I don't know what happens when we die, but I do know that as long as we remember those who impacted our lives, they live on.
-bill kenny
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