Most of my friends are old friends. People I’ve known twenty, thirty years or more. My friend Jim, for example, I met when I was in the 3rd Grade, he in the 1st. In 1960!
Mark, therefore, is, by this definition, a new friend. I’ve only known him, what?. Fifteen years?
Mark and I met while working together at TMCCC, in the Security Investigations Department. He’d just transferred in from another area, and befriended me. Somewhere in this process, he had heard I was the ‘gun guy’.
Along the way he had a detour. He was struck riding his bicycle from work by a hit-and-run driver. One leg was seriously mangled and broken, and he wore one of those metal splint devices with pins going into the bone for some time. I’m not a big fan of government-mandated bike helmets, but I am thankful he was wearing his. He still has it, along with the fist-sized hole punched in one side. He’s now completely recovered, and hikes and visits the gym regularly.
He became a shooting student of mine, then a gunnie in his own right. A big fan of the 1911, the .357, and the 12 gauge.
And he’s one of the cadre of friends who has supported me, in spirit and sometimes, financially. Before I was gifted Hobson (the Roomba vacuum) he came by and vacuumed my entire house! Just because it needed it, and I was unable.
And he came by to assist Dave (the
genius mechanic) when he worked on my car.
He’s had some job difficulties, of late, and took a seasonal position at an Amazon contractor’s warehouse. Physical labor, 10 hour days! He always seems upbeat, but, I know with his intellect, this must wear on him.
This guy reads The Economist, for chrissakes! And even stops by this blog with an occasional snarky remark. I’d expect nothing less.
Thank you for being my friend, Mark.