missing an old friend

Today I miss my old friend Bill McKechnie, a guy with whom I was in the army and the kind of man who could see the whimsical title, "The Complete Book of Dwarf Tossing" as an opening to a long and fruitful conversation about ... about ... about whatever came next. The topic might be washed down with a beer or two or three, but it would be ranging and unafraid and imaginative. Worm farms and other solemnities would not be out of bounds -- a silliness whose seriousness would be acknowledged sotto voce ... lord, the world was a miraculous place! Nuclear war and the girl with three tits might make an appearance ... anything, everything was open to a meandering pouncing on one topic or the next or the next or the next.

I miss Bill, who died a number of years ago.

We had a few laughs. It was Bill who rewrote Benjamin Franklin with the doggerel

Early to bed
And early to rise
And you never see any of your friends.

We lived in a time (1960's) when graffiti in men's rooms were literate and included

A kiss that lasts forever
Is a strange gift.

And also, in one handwriting,

Niger (sic), go back to Africai (sic)

Followed by, in a second hand-writing,

I'm taking your mother and sister with me.