This little bit I know

 

 Oh, Paulie, he could talk about writing for hours. One day after Thanksgiving we had a seven-hour lunch (and I caught a cold when the waiter mixed our drinks up). Yeah, that's the kind of guy old Paulie is. A confirmed bachelor with wall-to-wall books in his apartment. There might be a few DVDs mixed in too. He keeps the rest at Dino's in a space he rents out. 

He used to write plays, but his farmer of a Dad said that wouldn't pay the bills. In fact, he's had lots of jobs over the decades. 

There was a time, long before I was born. I can only imagine just how he was. Friends with musicians and other intellectuals, no less..going places, out to a late-night party and then some. He even ran an X-rated movie house (actually two, one in Omaha and in Council Bluffs).

 A coworker friend and I have often thought he was gay, but he won't say and we won't dare ask. Although, his partner recently died and he had to sell the house. But he seems OK. He still has plenty of friends. After all, he does like to socialize. And every couple of months we get together at his favorite place, Village Inn...for a very long lunch.

Naturally, he talks of people and places and how life used to be. He still gets to San Francisco. Even during a pandemic. That Paulie, he's gonna write a book one day. Hopefully, I won't have to type it.

[based on someone I know].

(Leo Lou-face claim)

I had seen Paulie in passing while I was out to lunch and we'd said we'd get together. I kind of dreaded it because he was a no-show last time. He'd forgotten. Wouldn't answer his phone. Later, he was very apologetic, but I felt maybe these lunches ending with pie had come to an end. I wasn't expecting much.

In reality, Paulie should already be retired, but he was still working about twenty-five hours a week at the University. He said he couldn't quit. He needed to be able to have money to travel.

Little did I know that would be the last time I would see him. He looked so good that day, but he died in his apartment at the end of the week. He would have been 80 in September.

It's sad to know what to do or how to respond when something like that happens. It was a shock. I just didn't know a friend who did research for decades for his book that was very Tarantino would never get written. Oh, he could be long-winded. And yes, I felt so exhausted at those long lunches that could go on for hours.  But it feels to be an emptiness now. It is hard to grasp. And I still think about him. As with many, I wonder if I knew them at all. Maybe I did. I think I did. I was a good listener.