So me and Jack are nearing the end of our 2-hour runwalk Friday morning when – lo and behold – I find a penny on the sidewalk. On heads. Jack always ALWAYS finds the money first, so of course I squeal and give him the business over this. We have a great laugh about it.
When I get into the office, the first email I click on is “Fwd. Sad, sad news” and I learn that Steve Flack and James Buracker were killed the night before in a car wreck.
Both of them were many things, including basketball refs. Both of them started with our ref association on the “two-man court” that I oversee at our summertime ref camp, which gives me an extra special tie to each. Both were salt-of-the-earth guys. Both leave huge voids.
So around 4 a.m. Saturday before crossing the mountain on my way to a much-needed long run on single-track trails, I go with a last-second switch and decide to stop for some coffee. That stop and pursuant restart puts me in exactly the right spot to see the most magnificent shooting star ever.
A penny on heads. And a shooting star.
I hear you, boys. I hear you.