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May 16, 2007

dear mason

When I saw the 614 area code flash on my cell at midnight, I knew it was going to be ghastly news.

I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry you're gone. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I missed you when I was in Columbus last year. I'm sorry that until tonight, I didn't know that "Mason" wasn't even your real name. Thankfully, d'Andre put on some hand-puppets tonight and patiently explained to me that "Mason" was a reference to your jump-shot. Come to think of it, I'm also sorry for your jump-shot.

I'm John, by the way. Nice to meet you, Dave.

Killed by someone you didn't even know. I'm numb. What a waste. If I live to be 100, will this ever make a goddamned lick of sense? No one knows the details yet, but I bet you were being a hero again. I always worried that would catch up with you.

I'm probably not coming to your service. I want to, but I can't get away from my class. But the next time I'm home, I'm going to pay my respects to your widow and kid. I'm going to tell them about the time you quite literally saved my ass from a 5-on-1 beatdown. How before that moment, I didn't even think you could stand me. I'll tell them how you gave what you could not afford to give to people less needy than yourself. I'll tell them how nefarious people warily steered clear of you. And I'll tell them about how you caught me serepticiously packing my belongings for my cross-country move, how betrayed you felt that I was going to just disappear, and how you shook my hand and called me family. I never told you how much that meant, how much it still means. I'll have to tell your real family instead. I'm sure nothing I say will surprise them in the least.

Goodbye, brother. If there's a heaven, I hope the rims are just huge. And, of course, soft.

posted by john at 2:42 AM  â€¢  permalink