Another classmate passes

After returning from our trip to visit my two older daughters and the grandkids, I was reading the newspapers from the weekend. I don’t know if it’s an age thing, or what, but I look at the front page and then go to page 3 where the obits are. If nothing catches my eye there, I move on to the editorial page.

I have found page 3 to be of greater importance as time goes by. Partly, it’s more than a whistling-past-the-graveyard paranoia, because when I was in business for myself, and even working at the hospital, it was important to follow the deaths of people you may have had contact with. And, of course, those you know well.

Today, something caught my eye on page 3. I saw the obituary for William Evans. Actually, I know two guys named William Evans. This one is the older one. He was the same age as I am, 60. Each day, 60 years old seems younger and younger.

We were in school together, although we weren’t good friends. Bill Evans, who for some reason I don’t know, was known as “Jose,” and was on the edge of trouble a good bit of his younger years. He was a member of the Ramblers, a social club in high school known for their partying. He was funny, crazy and likeable. We hung with different crowds, but we knew each other. In some of the class reunions over the last several years, we talked some about the old days. Mostly, he hung with his buddies, and I hung with mine. Probably the most common thing we shared was a band called The Jades. I was in the band, and Jose knew some of the other guys (also Ramblers) pretty well, and liked our music.

Jose died of lung cancer. In 2003, he attended the class reunion. He seemed fine. Maybe he just didn’t know yet. The obit said he was preceded in death by six siblings. Damn!

Not too long ago, I had three of my classmates die in a four-week period. Not long ago, another one passed.

I’m not really too worried. I’ve always been healthy, and my last checkup was pretty good. And the longevity story goes both ways. My dad and one of his brothers and their father died pretty young. But my dad’s mother and my great uncle and my great granddad lived long. Still, it’s hard to watch your contemporaries die and not start to think a little about your own mortality.

When all is said and done, when your day comes, you don’t have much to say about it. All you can do is do the best you can, live the best life you can live, try to make a positive difference in the world while you’re here. If you’re religious, you hope there’s a God, and that He knows you. If you’re not religious, you hope there isn’t a God.

R.I.P., Jose. I hope you’re in a better place.