There was a man named Animal

One of the reasons I still appreciate living in a small town is for some of its real people. I still can't stand small town drama where everyone thinks they know everyone's business and I don't care for people without manners or common sense. But in small towns, you find people who are "real." They don't go for the marketing lingo I sling; they just live their lives by appreciating a cold beer and good friends and family.

This morning we learned a man named Animal shot himself in the chest. Animal was a friend of a friend. He was maybe early 60s, rode a Harley and was the kind of guy who wouldn't hesitate to pick you up when you're down. From what I hear he was going through a rough patch with his wife and thought this was the next best step. I wish, even though I barely knew him, he would have thought about all his friends who loved hanging out with him and liked his crooked smile. Oh and now that I think of it, that was Honda that looked like a Harley. We'd tease him about that and he'd just smile. But that's what you do, you can't afford a Harely, you get a Honda to make it look like what you want.

I hope your troubles are over Animal - we'll miss you.