Saturday, January 10, 2015

This morning I read an article on line that my daughter, Jess, had recommended to me.  It was entitled, “I don’t give a fuck.”  It had the word “fuck” in it at least 137 times as the author included that information in his article.  He is a very good writer and the article was not only very funny but very insightful.
I thanked Jess for the recommendation and proceeded to tell her that it brought back memories of my old best friend, Dirty Dave, and how depressed he was during his divorce.  He had married this little bit of a bitch girl who had no forehead and talked in decibels that made your face reverberate.  I was under that impression that no one was good enough to marry my best friend.  Well, maybe except Becky, of the luminous breasts.  Becky was so cool in the 70’s she wore a white dress to a wedding of a friend and you could see her dark nipples through the material.  The guys were all made of wood that day, I’m sure.
But Becky would have nothing to do with Dave because he was, of course, Dirty.  He did not take kindly to bathing.  He was a carpenter by trade and his hands were coarse from working in the weather.  He had drastically bad sinuses and probably couldn’t smell himself.  In his last years he took to wearing this most ungodly smelling deodorant that was almost as bad as smelling his b.o.
Anyhow back to the divorce.  His little fairy bitch of a wife with no forehead decided that she wanted more out of life and decided to ditch Dave.  He was so sad.  I couldn’t believe my buddy who I couldn’t spend 10 minutes with without laughing my ass off.  (Oh dear, LMAO in the honest sense.)  But truly, he was so funny and had the greatest sense of humor.  On the day of his divorce he headed to a bar and happened upon one called “Fuck Off And Die”.  He bought a baseball hat and wore it to our house where he crashed for the night.
Ferb was so impressed with the hat that he bought it from Dave.  Dave needed money at the time.  (We have lots of photos with different people wearing the FOAD hat.)  Dave came around a lot during this divorce time.  You’d try to talk to him about something and he’d just say, “I don’t give a shit.”  So I got into a foul mood one evening and barked back that “I don’t give a shit either.”  It was presidential election time about then and Dave suggests that we run for President and Vice President on the “I Don’t Give A Shit”, party’s ticket.  We laughed so hard we cried.
He was a wonderful friend and I am so sorry that we lost him early. 

This is an especially great photo of Dave.  He had such a winning smile.  Ultimately, one of the most eccentric people I have ever know.  God was he good at Scrabble.  He came to visit for many years on New Year's Eve.  We would drink beer and play Scrabble until all hours of the night.

The following is what I wrote for his "celebration of life".

I had a friend.   He was the kind of friend I could call when I was down.  He would bring me back up.  He made me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry and he made me laugh at myself and at life.  Because life is sometimes hard.  My friend was constant.  No matter what I said or did he accepted me and my failings. 

Dave (Mike) was not your average person.  He didn’t conform to society’s idea of the socially acceptable but he made his own way.  He lived life the way he wanted to and society be damned.  He had a keen sense of humor.  Books and reading were his priorities.  He was an introvert until you needed him and then he was there for you.  Many times I felt as if Dave took advantage of me but when all is said and done, he was there for me.  He brought me back to myself.

Dave was the most unique person I have ever known.  As much as his personal hygiene disgusted me, I loved him and his spirit.  We have shared so much in life. Happiness, as well as sadness.

Dave and I shared many experiences in our friendship.  We took our first borns for a walk in their strollers for the first time.  He gave me a can opener for my wedding gift.

I didn’t attend Dave’s wedding.  His mother wasn’t there and I told him if I couldn’t sit in for his mom, I wouldn’t come.  I made the reception.

Dave’s dad told me that he was thankful that I had raised Dave so well.  He was at our house so much when we were young.

Euchre and pinochle games were our passion for years.  I still say he and Ferb cheated with some secret sign language.  They were such good partners.  Later in life we played Scrabble and argued over many words and Dave always won.  He was extremely intelligent and I know I called him many times to help me solve my crossword puzzles by phone call.  We would end up talking for hours.

When Dave was in the Army in Germany we exchanged taped letters.  I would listen to his ramblings and laugh and cry.  I can still hear him saying, “Wilma, it’s Dave.”  Just the sound of his voice uplifted me.

Dave was my friend and I will miss him drastically.  All I can say is, “until the next time.”

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