My friends had planned to hold a funeral for my Youth, but were unable to do so because of the untimely death of a coworker. They all felt it would have been in bad taste to go through with it and I agree.
They did, however, have a mini funeral complete with old funeral sprays, pictures of the dearly departed youth, and a eulogy. It was really funny. I included a copy of it and some pictures in the extended section because it’s kinda long. And yes, the people are my friends. And I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Farewell to thee, O Howie’s youth.
Friends, loved ones, and Marty,
Ludwig van Beethoven once said…
“Friends applaud, the comedy is over.”
Who was Howard Gxxxxxx in his youth and vigor? In this time of mourning it is important for all of us to remember, not this frail, hairy little man that we’re left with, but the vital, chubby, little fellow that we all dearly cherished. Jewish by birth, loser by coincidence, friend by experience…Howie’s youth.
Howie’s youth was about love. It leaves a trail of beautiful women…well, women…ok, pictures of women (some video footage), and a legendary collection at that. His youth knew women well. But we know that there are hearts broken because of this loss. From Portland, OR to Columbus, MS, tears are falling, dogs are howling, turtles are, well, turtling and cows are mooing for what was and what could have been. But Howie’s youth did not allow himself to be constrained by a woman’s wiles. He was content to befriend women, opting not to be tied down with futile physical relationships, but to reach higher. He was a friend. Really. Almost always.
Howie’s youth was about strength. He made many athletic accomplishments…well, attempts. Hell, you get the picture. With his partially ridden bikes, his seldom used golf clubs, the almost brand new guitar, the Rio MP3 player that is still in the box, his youth showed the kind of mediocrity that we all only hope to achieve. His dedication to his semi-annual workouts at the gym still inspires us today. His stellar basketball play, to say the least, amazed us. Who could forget his prowess on the softball field? His elegance, grace, and how quickly his bruises healed. Howie’s youth recognized the delicate balance to nature that only a hunter/gatherer could. His deadly eye brought down many a deer, ok a couple, which adds to his lore.
Howie’s youth was about work. Earthshaking decisions. The opening of Pandora’s Box, the swell partnerships, the obvious time and care to which he did his job will not soon be forgotten. His unshakable love for the SFBC Golf Classic would not be disturbed by some severity one help desk. He knew where his loyalties were. Who would dare page me at a golf tournament? Who would dare page me in the middle of the night? Who, I say? Defective equipment! Alas, I turn thee off, o pager, never to live again. His youth had pride in his home. With a love for painting and painting and painting, he leaves us all dumbfounded and teaches us to prioritize our own time carefully.
Howie’s youth was about knowledge and truth. The name Dujou will forever be known in the hallowed halls of Buffalo Wild Wings for the depth of knowledge (useless trivia) he’d mastered. The consumption of countless science fiction novels only served to enhance his understanding of Star Wars and the Matrix. Stephen King was a fan.
Finally, Howie’s youth was about passion. Not afraid to let the world know what he was thinking (or where he was going). He had a love for writing, only a 3leggeddog could understand! Howie’s youth lived hard and died the same way. Just look at the love he held for his LSU Tigers. Undeniable, undying he hardly ever rooted against them. That was just the way it was. Never wavering. He ate with passion, he slept with passion, and he drank cider with a passion. Need I say more?
So today, friends, our young, fat friend may be leaving us, but we’ll always have the memories. I beseech you to look for the youth in yourselves and be true to it. Don’t waste it away but instead, hop on that mountain bike that is life and make that next mile, or in the case of Howie’s youth, the next couple of yards.