Today was my wife's birthday. Over dinner, she asked if I remembered the first of her birthdays that we spent together. I did not, but she did not throw anything at me for forgetting.
We met in January of 1981. The semester was over in early May, so on her birthday I drove the 75 miles from my home to our college town where she lived. She, our friend, Joey, and I went out to eat. Then we went to shoot pool and share a pitcher. Those were the days when I still drank occasionally.
Two frat guys at the pool hall tried to hustle us for a pitcher. Neither Joey nor I were very good. We broke, one of them sank a couple of balls, then Joey sank half of ours. The other guy sank a couple, then I sank the rest of ours. It was about as probable as lightning striking for us to win so easily.
Joey was a good friend to both of us. A week or two later he had an epileptic seizure--his first grand mal, and smothered. We attended his funeral.
Julia had always told Joey that she'd name her first born after him. Nine years later we named our first born Joseph, and call him Joey.