Snerkology

When Bill went to his training class last month, he was accompanied by his long-time colleague and friend Larry Daley. I met them there for the long weekend, and the three of us went to dinner every night, played tourist at the Shedd Aquarium and the Field Museum, and hung out in the hotel bar.

Yesterday, Larry died.

Bill learned of it this morning. (Article here.)

Larry was only 54 years old. A good man. A good friend.

Had I known that he would be taken from us, I would have taken many more pictures of him. Just him, instead of these photos that just happened to have him in them, and then not actually facing the camera.

Larry to the left, Bill to the right, discussing the merits of the Jeep Larry drove all weekend.

Larry off to the left, taking a picture of the whale, while Bill observes off to the right.

He took pictures of us, though.

Larry took this picture of me and Bill in front of the Field Museum.

I will remember how he made sure to buy souvenirs for his wife and kids, everywhere he went. I will remember how he talked about his wife, and how much he loved her. I will remember him telling us how proud he was of his kids, over steak dinners at Ted’s Montana Grill. I will remember how self-deprecating he was, modest, polite, a true gentleman. I will remember how much fun the three of us had that weekend. I will remember being able to spot him (he always took his time at the exhibits, while Bill and I tended to speed through some of them, so we always ended up trying to find him again) because he generally towered over the rest of the patrons. I will remember how NUTS Larry’s driving was, and how Bill and I hung onto the Oh Shit handles everywhere we went.

I will remember how Larry loved Maker’s Mark, and how Bill and I raised a glass of it for him tonight.

Rest in peace, Larry. You will be sorely missed.