Remembering Hal9000

In the late 80’s, early 90’s the Brotherhood ruled Thursday night bowling at Langley. A team of ragtag, diversified athletes swept through the league weekly, raising hell and drinking along the way. There was the perfection of Dickie, the Popeye fore armed E-bone, Ted Nugent incarnate Kapacko, Jake with his “Pressurized Whoopass” shoes, and Macho: characters all in their own right. But none stood out like the captain of that Motley Crew, Hal 9000. A diminutive, 5 foot something Napoleonic person, Hal9000 bowled leadoff, always pulling his pants up after he released his ball.
Hal9000 died Friday, September 28th in the early morning hours while sleeping. Now it seems, at least for the moment……..nothing really matters. But the pain I feel is real, and I’m surprised at how much it hurts.
Looking back, his family was struggling with the realities of his passing while Jake, HorHey, and myself were on our way to Virginia Beach to play in a golf tournament. How were we to know that our conversations about nothing, but actually about everything, had miniscule meanings when compared to the drama that was playing out in Hampton? I guess if I really thought about it, I could allow myself to feel guilty for not keeping in better touch with Hal9000. But I won’t…………..
I was talking to Commissioner Hughes a couple of days ago, maybe even last week, about the types of memories one has of someone when they die. He stated that people basically have two: one memory is the conglomeration of all previous memories and the other is the memory of the last time you saw that person. And I sat there and thought about what he said.
That’s why I don’t usually visit coffins during funerals. I don’t want THAT image of the person I care about to be the last image I have of them. I want my last image to be of something that I loved about the person. When MQ’s friend died, MQ tried to get me to go into the room where the body was to pay last respects. But I refused. I wanted to remember the person who was happy go lucky, the person who was at the beach with us a while back, not the cold, ashen person that lay in that room.
So in a weird way, maybe it’s OK that I didn’t keep in regular contact with Hal9000. Because I didn’t, my last memory of Hal is a good one. In fact, I have no bad memories of Hal.
The disturbing thing is now, more than ever, I realize that death doesn’t discriminate. And the reality that we are all getting older and moving just that much closer is, well, sort of frightening.
But I have to smile a little when I think about it. Maybe God needed a hard worker, and a good lead off bowler for his own Thursday night league, so he called the best there was: Hal9000. I wonder how Saint Peter and the fellas are going to respond when they see him release his ball, turn his hands inward, and pull up his robe for the first time?
Regardless, I hope they get the laughs and good feelings Hal9000 brought to us. I hope, one day when they are all sitting around BSing, that they can say the same thing about Hal that I can: That I have only good memories, and I’m glad he was a part of my life for the short while he was.
As I sit here and write this
I feel the tears
From losing my friend
From all those years.
Who lived each second
As if it were his last
Whose soul enhancing persona
Was constantly cast
Upon those who knew him
And those who did not.
Hal9000, I know you can read this buddy. We love you and are forever touched by you. The next time the Brotherhood gathers, we will hold our Bowling Balls, replay our fondest memory, and toast you with our drinks. We will then silently, but gladly reminisce, knowing that some day we will all bowl together again!
Rest in Peace, man. Rest in Peace.