Remembering Joe

A friend just emailed a link to a couple of articles about a high school friend, Joe, who died in a boating accident last weekend. I think I'd seen him only once over the years, so it was so interesting to see two pictures of him -- what he had developed into physically over the years and who he developed into as a person.

I have very strong, clear memories of Joe. Always happy. Always laughing. Kind in a devilish sort of way.

Joe was one of the "Farwell guys." Farwell, Texas, was nine miles from my hometown, Clovis, New Mexico. We loved hanging out with the Farwell guys. Going to their parties. Drinking beer with them. They were fun and exotic. Down-to-earth but different from our hometown guys. We always considered it a good night if we ended up hanging out with them.

And of course Joe was always there. Fun and well liked. I don't remember anyone ever having issues with Joe except maybe a girl who was jealous that he was with someone else. We all had crushes on him at one point or another. Many of us even kissed him, even if we never went out with him, in that strange way we seemed to share such things back then.

One particular memory was breaking into the Farwell Country Club with Joe and a couple of others. We behaved well. Just swam a bit, and I think we took a golf cart and drove it around. We didn't actually break anything, didn't harm anything, and we left everything as we found it. We were small-town, joy-riding kids.

Joe came from a family of farmers, and he became a farmer. I've always assumed he was successful at it, but truth be told, I never thought he *seemed* like a farmer. He married someone I'd known since first grade, and they had two children. He'd grown into a family guy.

When I read the articles about his passing, they revealed that he became a paramedic and firefighter later in life. I'd like to think that he found his calling. Friends and co-workers who were interviewed kept mentioning his smile, professionalism, love for the job, the lives he saved.

This presented another portrait of Joe than I'd seen before, another angle for the camera. And I am happy, grateful even -- though yes, I haven't seen him in at least 25 years -- that he found something he loved and excelled at.

I hope that at the sudden and unexpected end of his life, he was as happy as he'd been back when I knew him. Happy to be alive. Happy to be with the ones he loved. Happy to still be a Farwell guy.