It was too good for just you to see...
Anyway, here's something that may be written inside:
Dear Don:
I remember the day you were born. Unfortunately, the colors weren't as bright back then--I just remember a shade of blue over everything.
I remember playing in the backyard because there were too many people in the house. On the day you were born, I got a little plastic golf set. Coincidence? I think not...
You were a very cute baby--I remember everyone striking up conversations with our family because your bright blond hair and blue eyes were so beautiful. I think some swingers tried to pick up mom and dad at Pizza Inn because of you, so...congratulations on that.
We had a bunch of fun growing up together. We collected baseball cards and played soccer and baseball and with adventure people--remember how we used to try to flood the backyard so we could float the boats? And we created a rapids for them by digging and eroding a part of the yard--good times.
We would go hang out at the school and play golf and baseball--back when baseball was cool but golf wasn't. Remember how we had 5 golf balls and we thought they were the last 5 golfballs in the world, til we figured out that Target had them for, like 50 cents each?
I thought you were going to be the best baseball player in the world...but you ended up sucking...
We would go crawdad fishing and try to catch the Red Baron. Ryan loves to hear about our crawdad fishing trips on our bikes. He asks me to tell the stories at bedtime.
Remember when you got lost at that big activity at the park and they pulled you up onstage and wouldn't let me get you because I was like 7 years old. We ended up getting unlimited twinkies and ding dongs outta that deal, so I guess it was worth it...
Remember going on our "picnic hikes"? In the freakin' 100 degree heat! What were we thinking? Also, our renegade trip to Toys 'R Us when you were only like 6 years old? I guess 10 miles seems closer by car...sorry you almost died--water would have been a good foresight.
And then there was the time the guy tried to kidnap us both and we had to ride around with the police officer...again, good times.
Sorry I crushed your head with a sledgehammer. I really think it was an accident.
Remember how I ran to the top of our hill holding my gold aluminum baseball bat over my head like a drawn sword, screaming "AAAAAAHHHHHHH!", ready to kill Mrs. Miller for taking your bike away? That image still cracks me up, but I think you thought I was a hero...
I always thought it was cool how you would go hang out with Grandma and Grandpa--they seemed to click with you--I think you made them feel comfortable using the F-word somehow...
I was always jealous of your ability to make a gazillion friends wherever you go--I'm doing good to make 3 or 4 close ones in a lifetime.
Why do you keep trying to psyche me out that there are alligators on your golf course that are going to get me if I hit my ball in the rough?
Remember when I got a couple of "8"'s in a row in golf and you started singing "Frosty the Snowman" because you said that getting an 8 was a "snowman"? Sorry I punched the crap out of your arm....last summer.
I had a great time hanging out with you all last year while I was working down in Houston every week. I felt like we got to know each other all over again.
I can smoke your ass at darts, anytime, anywhere.
I was flattered to be your "best man" at your wedding.
You've been the hardest worker I've known--you've been working and earning your own money since you were 6! You deserve the success you've had. We delivered magazines together for 5 years with the best record in the company!
Hey bro, you're my best friend, and I love you.
Mike
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