Making Up For Lost Time

Your blank screen mocks you and the tower of unopened mail pulls at your coat, and you wonder why you didn't go into the insurance business.

And you check in on your snoring 19-year-old son, home from college, and he's rounding noon and heading toward one and you wonder how you missed the typhoon that came through his room.

And so you trudge back to your desk and open a letter. And when you've finished, you go down, kiss your son on the forehead and wonder how you ever got so lucky.

Dear Mr. Reilly or whomever might take the time to read this:

I am not much of a writer, but since about 1996 I have wanted to nominate this kid for Faces in the Crowd

I should have started with all the junior golf tournaments he won at ages six to 10. I should have sent in something when he was written up as a golf prodigy in our paper at age 12. I should have sent in something when he got two holes in one in the summer after eighth grade.

I should have nominated him for being a three-time state qualifier and holding most all individual scoring records at his high school.

I should have sent in many of his wrestling accomplishments ... but I'm having trouble remembering everything.

This young man was my very best friend. We were golfing partners for 16 years. You see, this young man was my son.

He was killed in a motorcycle accident.