From the Archives
(June 2005) Just got the sad news that my friend Ed is dying. He and I created many a theater set together while trying to convince the wardrobe folks to let us try on outrageous outfits.
We have an annual ritual that involves lots of beer and tubing behind his boat.
We’ve done this for years, bur our first outing was definitely the best because our pal Roger turned out to be as fearless as I am.
He and I played bumper-tubes first. Then Ed got us going really fast, so we began making wider and faster sweeps across the wakes until we actually managed to get ourselves airborne. It took us a few tries and some nasty wipeouts, but we eventually managed to slap our hands together in the air and then land back on the water upright (no small feat, let me assure you).
Ed says he likes to watch me tube because a big smile is plastered across my face the entire time.
I walk around bruised and sore for weeks, but oh are our adventures fun!
Ugh. Poor Ed. He survived pancreatic cancer—one of the most painful kinds—already and then a recurrence in his lungs last year, but now his doctor says there’s nothing more they can do for him, so he was basically sent home to die.
Ugh. Poor, poor Ed. And poor us for losing someone so wonderful.