1 Story, 1 Confession

(First, see Death of a Friend, below)

As I write this, someone in Texas is delivering the eulogy at Paul's funeral.

If I were there, I would have to tell one story about him to his wife and Marine sons, and I'd have to finally come clean about a secret I always kept from Paul.

(Had I known what was going to happen, I'd have send him a confessional email. Rats.)

The story for the family: In his college years, pre-family, he loved to chase his friends around our dorm at Texas A&M with (what he claimed was) a little piece of his navel lint. He'd come into your room, fake taking this piece of lint from his navel, and hold it between his thumb and forefinger, Then he'd chase you up and down the halls with "it."

I am sure he faked the lint because NO ONE's navel could possibly produce THAT much lint.

Well, after a couple of years of this, it had to come to a stop! And thus the confession to Paul - delivered through the Spirits of Aggieland: Paul, I was the one who took your new baby blue VM bug out of the parking lot, took the doors off the student lounge, and set the car in the livingroom. I am sorry the campus cops gave you that ticket, and that you had to pay such a large fine. But you have to admit...you stopped chase us with that damned navel lint.

Goodnight, sweet prince.