a eulogy of sorts

The fellow in the studio next to my apartment, a man in his sixties named Brian with a limp, a speech impediment, and who knows how many serious health problems, passed away on Friday. I saw a fireman talking to someone who may have been from the property management company, and I didn't think to ask about it later. (I did ask at the time if it was OK for me to go in because, you know, firemen.) I found this out this morning from talking to my neighbor E because I wanted to tell him when I'd be gone.

Brian was a good guy. I got a quarter stuck in the dryer's coin acceptor a couple of months ago, and after solemnly swearing me to secrecy, he got a 2X4 and a hammer and banged it out. Brian doesn't need to worry about getting in trouble for that anymore.

Brian always had a joke for me. It always took me a while to figure out what he was saying, but he was definitely sharp.

Brian's father Paul is the guy who actually makes sure things get done around this building, and I have to say he does a terrific job of it. Yes, if Brian was in his sixties that means Paul is in his eighties, but Paul has always been hale & hearty. Since Paul is over here working pretty often and Brian usually helped him, it's quite possible that he discovered what had happened to his own son. Poor man. I should extend my condolences.