


This week I found out that my very best, closest and oldest friend died. We’ve known each other since we were kids… 7 or 8 years old!
They say that when you share a close bond with a person you can finish each other’s sentences – we not only would finish each other’s sentences but we’d sit down with a notebook: I’d write a few lines, he’d write a few lines and pass it back… I’d write the next few lines and then pass it to him and he’d write a few lines… and like that we’d compose some crazy, crazy stuff.
One thing that I’ve been doing over the past few days is to re-read some of the thousands and thousands of chat messages between us. I was able to screen-shot about 400 limericks and poems and short stories. Coupled with the scans of our handwritten work I’m compiling a collection for his son. I want it to stand as a document of how a smart, playful and daring mind can work to express itself. As a parent I’m also keenly aware that sometimes you have to wear the ‘disciplinarian hat’ and it’s easy for children to be of the impression that their parents are “NO FUN!”
We were fun! We used to be fun. We used to be.
Now I have to confront the near constant urge to chat or text a message with a bizarre quip or a photo of some improbable agglomeration of unthinkable things … but having no one to send it to.















































