A group of us sat around a campfire as your voice and guitar echoed through the night. After rattling off a bunch of songs you got up to leave our circle, presumably to freshen your drink or perhaps to take a moment to enjoy the beautiful night.
After some time had passed, I grabbed my flashlight and went looking for you in the darkness. Making my way back to the old lake road, I saw the glow of my car’s dome light. I approached and soon realized it was you. I strained my eyes to see what you were doing.
You had converted my dashboard into a kitchen table and on it were four neatly placed pieces of bread. Each one had received a healthy dose of ketchup and I watched as you carefully placed potato chips on each with Engineer like precision.
Having made my way to the car, I tapped on the window and asked what you were doing. You were startled at first, then slowly rolled the window down. You picked up one of the sandwiches and took a bite, then extended the second towards me. I explained there was a cooler full of meats and cheeses in the back seat and asked who eats potato chip sandwiches anyway. You just smiled and with a sly grin said, “I know the cooler there, this is just how I like them.” We both chuckled and you rolled up the window, clicked off the dome light and went back to your sandwich.
At the time, this seemingly simple event had no significance. But now, after your passing, these simple memories take on a much greater meaning. I don’t know why it stands out in my mind. Its just one of many collected memories that flash through my head when I would think of you. You were a simple, quirky, yet charismatic guy and I truly enjoyed all the great times we shared.
Your friend…Clinton
