Eat, Drink, and Be Gary
How as a culture we can become more tolerant and curious about each other?
I’d been expecting the news.
But it still comes as a shock: the death of a friend.
I’d been out the Saturday before Hallowe’en, slumming through my neighborhood thinking about buying a used hat. Winter was coming and I needed something to keep my head warm.
So it being mid-afternoon, I stopped at a local café for a beer and maybe a bite to eat. It wasn’t one of my favorite haunts, and I had no desire to linger there.
I was sitting at the bar and, when I turned around, there was the old gang — former employees of the Muddy Pig (now defunct), one of my favorite watering holes in St. Paul.
The look on their faces said it all.
One of the bartenders, Lisa, came over, joined by Thea and Kristian, another bartender and server, was there with his young daughter Violet.
“Gary died on Thursday,” they told me.
“Oh man,” I said, eyes welling with tears. “That’s terrible.”