Life has a habit of visiting grief and reality on us. I guess it's to keep us in balance lest we become to wrapped up in ourselves. Adventures in the happiness of the past have to give way to the "Right Now".

I recently was made aware of the passing of one James Kinecktel. It was in the form of a short obituary in a little monthly newsletter I receive from my old union local. Us old folks are always drawn to the "Obit's". It's a fascination born of getting OLD.

The name stirred something deep inside me but I could not for the life of me put a face with it. Like a name on the tip of your tongue that your cannot quite say. I walked around for several days trying to retrieve that piece of elusive memory. 

Yesterday morning while peering into my second cup of coffee and half listening to some talking head on TV, the word "Turtle" was mentioned. Bam, instant recall. Kinecktel had always been called "Turtle. A nickname from God knows where but for whatever reason it fit him to a "T". Jim was a big Yogi bear type guy. A gentle giant!! All hairy and full of life. I had worked with him for twenty years. Never once saw him angry. Drank a lot of beer with the Turtle. Never enough to get drunk. We both had kids and wives at home. The rule was that no one arrived home drunk.

God bless you Turtle. I feel a great loss with your passing. Maybe with some luck we'll meet again. You left this world a better place than you found it.