Still hard to believe that Stan isn’t going to knock on the door, or yell “Hey Big Guy” across the road.
I was driving into the city today for an appointment. Coming south, I remembered a time when we ended up following Stan for about 15 miles. My daughter and I were in our old 1964 Chevy pick-up. Stan was in his Intrepid. We were racing down the highway. I had my hand out the window, making like I was spanking the truck to get it to go faster… Stan was laughing so hard he had to pull over. This was before we became close friends.
Whenever I get sad thinking about Stan, I remember the little things like that.
Stan coming into the yard just to greet our dogs. He used to walk our Sheepie, Max. Until one day, Max got a little excited and tripped Stan. Stan said “I decided I didn’t need to be hurt by a big dog… let me take one of the little ones out instead.” Even so, he always stopped to talk to Max and rub his ears.
I keep checking my email looking for random song lyrics. Whenever a song popped into Stan’s head, he always had to share them with me.
Related articles
