Well, I just received a phone call that I wasn't hoping to receive. It seems as if a very good friend is on a rapid downward slide.
I've known Glenn and his wife, Mickey, since I moved to San Antonio. I've traveled with them, often to South Padre Island but also to Santa Fe, N.M. I rang in the new millennium at the top of their tree house, which they have at the back of their ranch house. And they celebrated more than a few Kentucky Derby Days and Night of the Radishes at my house. We've cooked together, gone on birding trips and dolphin tours, and just relaxed under the love oaks in their backyard. We've eaten our way through restaurants far and wide, we've sampled fine wines, guzzled lousy gins, sipped Moscow Mules (a drink Glenn introduced me to years before they got trendy) and generally enjoyed each others' company whenever we could.
He has always displayed this outsized lust for life that made him so much fun to be around. Unfortunately, he has had to go on oxygen and it has depleted his energy almost entirely. In less than two weeks' time, he's become almost entirely bedridden and hospice has been called in to help the two of them at their home. Who knows if he has a week or a month, but he seems to be ready, from what my friends tell me. I am set to go out Thursday. I may try to go out sooner.
Some of those HHW vibes for Glenn would be appreciated.
