ode to Mr. Brazley

Today, I got some horrible news. My best friend from middle school's dad died. Last month. She and I don't talk all that much but this information blew me away. He had been sick for a year but I didn't have a clue. The last I remember us talking about his health, his gout was acting up a lot. I wonder if that was, in fact, the cancer.

Think back to your friend of yesterday whose house you frequented, whose mom you called your mom, whose room you knew as well as yours. Mr. Brazley was that friend's mom for me. I love that man and hurt because I can't see him once more. My mom and I actually talk about him in our casual daily talks sometimes. He made that kind of impression. Now, he's gone. I bet he made an impression on many children besides me as he spent the second part of his life as a teacher. Before that, he served in the military out of a belief that doing so keeps Americans safe. Noble, right? And he could cook his tail off. When I think about a cooking man, I think about Mr. Brazley. When I tell people that when you find a man that can cook, he can really cook, I'm thinking about him. When I say that hash can be good, I'm talking about the hash he makes, the best hash I've had yet. I'm not saying he was perfect, as we often like to paint our dead, but I do think he had a good heart and a did a lot of nice things for others. Funny memory-- he took a trip to Mexico while I was in high school. He decided to buy me a pen at a stand where the person stitches your name in a pen cover while you wait. Well, he forgot my name (but not me!). His daughter had called me A.J. for so long that A.J. is what is came to mind when it was time to place his order. I was fine with that, but especially pleased that he even thought to bring something back for me.

Damn. A year. A reminder that I do a horrible job of keeping up with how much time elapses between times when I talk to you guys. It would have been nice if Marshetta had let me know that her dad was sick but it would have been much nicer if I had put forth more effort than I did to know what was going on with her. The last few times I e-mailed or facebooked her, I didn't get a reply. I thought that was about me but now I know, at least in part, that was really about her and him.

As for my weekend as a whole, it was okay. Tammy and I went to Jackson on Saturday to avoid arriving there in the dark on Friday. I spent about 2.5 hours both Saturday and Sunday unpacking-- not a whole lot of time but enough for me to see a difference in the place when I left compared to at my arrival but not so much to prevent me from doing something recreational with Tammy. Despite my activity, I had an overall sense of being bored on Saturday. Go figure. I laid on my deck in the dark some and star gazed in between looking around to make sure no homicidal white men were approaching (or anyone for that matter). Since being home today, I've spent about 1.5 packing more things. My closet is pretty much done now; I even vacuumed it. The clothes will probably hang until Thursday or so, late enough for me to know what all I will wear from what's left. This week will be more about packing and less about socialization than last week. It'll also be about yoga. I plan to check out kundalini yoga tomorrow. Blessed be.