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30 Mar 2002 / 9:39 p.m.
.:  shillelagh

joe's grandfather, hubert, came out to the firepit occasionally last summer. he always waited until his wife was sleeping. we would sneak him beer and barbequed chicken - he would nod, his eyes wide. he would tell stories. to us, it always seemed we got the better deal. good stories, especially old ones, are worth more than a few cans of Pabst.

hubert died recently. tonight i am going to his wake with joe and matt and bebout and a few other guys. we are going to get very drunk, tell our oldest stories, and nod sagely at the end of each one.

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