My Friend Al

He said, "Where ever you break down, call me, and I will come to get you". One day he picked me up, and I was taken aback when I saw an open can of Beer. When I mentioned it to him, he said to me, "You worry too much". He told me things in private that I would not repeat, and he said things publicly when we were together that sometimes embarrassed me, but I would not trade my friendship with Al for anything. It appears that Al had lost faith in Christians and organized religion, but he believed in God, and he believed in me. I was free to let Al be Al, and he was the same toward me. Al was clean, neat, transparent, unpretentious, unmasked, and free. Al was an opened book easily read and overwhelmingly interesting to anyone who loved novels. I must confess that I do not like novels, but I loved every page of Al's true-life story. No, I do not miss Al's foul language, his heavy drinking, or his bitterness, but I miss some awful my dear friend Al, vintage Al, the genuine article, the real McCoy. Yes, I miss his great mechanical abilities which served me well for some 20 years, but I miss his honesty more. Al knew his limits and always stayed between the lines with me. Prior to Al's passing, I had never attended a funeral without masks. In other words, his funeral was also an open book, a mirror reflecting vintage Al. I tell you, my life was enriched by the friendship of Al. 070220PS