Last night I headed back to my hometown of New Milford for Andy's wake. As I drove down the stretch of Route 67 that leads into town, looking out on the series of green and rolling hills, it hit me - I was raised amongst hill people.
As expected, the event was awkward... I can never quite figure out how to properly arrange myself in those types of buildings, so a group of us headed out to the parking lot to twitch around, drink, make horribly inappropriate and at times strangely loud comments and generally be menacing - just as Andy would have wanted.
One idea kept coming up, though: who's next? An ugly thought for sure, but a truly tough nut to crack, and as we are not ones to make serious of such a light situation, we started speculating and eventually mapped out a crude tontine with a ten dollar buy in and a lump sum for the last man standing. It brings out serious unpleasantness in a man when you start speculating and wagering on his life span, telling him: You're next.
No comments:
Post a Comment