My best friend and I were like brothers and we fought like brothers. When we would get into an argument one of the “less offensive” things I would call him was “Gumby”. The name fit and he knew it. It really ticked him off. Unfortunately I had never heard of “Pokey” but he had and that name really shut me up. Good ole’ Ricky. Around the time of Ricky’s death my family and I moved into a new, old, house. One day, not long after we were settled in, one of my kids dropped something into a floor vent. When I removed the vent I found these stamps laying there in the duct. Words cannot describe how I felt.
The years right after Ricky’s death were pretty lonely for me even with my wife and kids around. To make matters worse, the job I had at the time required me to drive many hours at a time. Often I would arrive at an office after hours but I had access to the equipment that needed repair so I would sit there and work and think in the silence of a place I knew was full of people just hours before. It reminded me of how people leave this life but the ones left behind still have to endure in the same environment.
While driving on the lonely country roads of Mississippi between service calls, I would ponder the obstacles in my life and wonder how Ricky would handle the situation. It was almost as if he were riding along with me. I told this to friend once and she sat back and acted a little shocked as if I were crazy. I told her “well it’s not like I stop and by him a coke or anything!”. He would have thought that was funny. I just try to look at things the way he did because he had an unbreakable will and was not afraid to tell people what he thought.
I tried to keep the stamps in a safe place but they were eventually found by my kids and were damaged a little but not before I made this scan.