Stan the man

Didn't know you too well.

Seems like you lived a full 48.

Your knives were things of beauty. Shiny, sharp, wood grips that showed the beauty of the grain.

On that one ride, I was singing Story Of My Life in my head; I pulled up to you and you were actually humming THE SAME SONG. From now on you will be in my head when Social D comes on the radio.

Snuffed out, just like that. One too many beers? Texting while driving? Driving while talking? We'll never know. You were doing everything right on the bike, on the road, right place, right time.

Only not at that moment.

Requiescat in pace.

Some fine pitchin'

In no particular order, in the last few weeks since I have chosen to jot down thoughts I have gone to Akron to visit my sister and her family, checked out the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, fixed their fence, ate a Primanti Brothers Cap and Provie sandwich in Pittsburgh, visited my grandmother's grave in Braddock, hung out with my cousin from Brooklyn, her family, and 3 of their friends, hosted 3 dinner parties with some friends, saw Neil Young at DAR, saw the doctor who told me I needed to "make some changes", rode my bike a few times, watched Susanna score a goal in her last game in the Takoma Park rec league (now she's joining the Catholic Church of soccer leagues), watched the building that I have been working on for the last 4 years grow another story (roof slab to be poured this week!), made an unfortunate staff change at work, celebrated the graduation of our neighbor's son who looks like the Flying Tomato, almost went to Miami for the AIA Convention, and saw Steven Strasburg (live) make his auspicious debut as a Washington National.

I think it's safe to say that he'll have a slightly better baseball career than I ever had.