What Doug Did.

He had a pretty good history. I met him 13 or 14 years ago at a religious thing and found out he lived right down the street. At the time he was in between professional jobs, hard times, and working in a warehouse stacking pizza crusts. And lived about 10 blocks away from me. And we eventually found that we clicked. He was allergic to wheat products so he baked his own bread in a bread machine out of strange grains like spelt. I got to sample everything and it was just fine. Actually he was a pretty fair cook. He ate sixty zillion herbal nutritional supplements every day. He had two cats (his Spirit Animals were the cat family) named for Star Trek characters. One was Yoda. Both black, both from shelters, a Siamese and a Russian Blue. After awhile they saw some merit in me too. Doug eventually moved to Clayton, for awhile, and we had a great Thanksgiving dinner there that he had cooked. With movies. He followed his professional employment and wound up in Urbana in a great big old apartment with ceilings so high it would rain on damp days. He was a licensed therapist and worked in corrections. He was married once, halfway wanted another relationship and liked oriental women. His last job was in West Jefferson, Ohio where he moved and I lost track of him until three years ago when he phoned me from a nursing home in Middletown and told me he had a stroke.

He was honest and forthright with me. When I had a problem he always asked me if I wanted him to answer as a therapist or a friend. If I said 'friend' he laid it on the line and it wasn't always what I wanted to hear. But it was healthier than my plan. We went to religious things together; stopped at a farm in Urbana to buy ostrich sausage (pretty good actually); went to a fish farm where I got to be a kid and pet the sturgeons. (Cool, rubbery and squeaky clean). Ate meals at the local hospital cafeteria; Discovered the riches of the Urbana Public Library; Talked and talked some more. I listened a lot. So did he. We were easy and cozy with each other. He taught me everything I know about smoking cigars, he was very wise about that art.

The last two and a half years were nursing homes, additional strokes, and I guess he finally got tired of it and decided to go. He believed in past and future lives. Six months ago during a hospitalization he had some very prophetic dreams about another country and another time. South America and altars and wise men. Macchu Picchu style. I figure that's where he's headed. Gonna' miss the dude. Already do. It'll take awhile. Bye Doug! Ta!