Happy Birthday, You Cranky Old Cracker

Da Goddess @ 17:05

Missing you, Rob! You’d be 63 today. There’d likely be a box of chilled white zin ready to roll. Franzia.

Rob Smith in Florida on our vacation
Were you here, I’d make you meatloaf with some Vidalia onions you’d make sure I’d have. I’d insist upon you playing guitar and singing some songs. “Louisiana 1927” — no one could beat your version. EVER. It was pure heartbreak in every note. Of course, you sang me many other songs and I’d be begging you for those, too. Hell, I’d be happy just to hear your voice calling me a bitch right about now. (Thankfully, you never really meant it, but at this point, you could and I’d still be happy to hear you say it.) Which reminds me of this image. Remember sitting on that balcony in Daytona together, watching the storm roll in? That was one of the most difficult trips I’ve ever had to come home from. Finding a friend who makes you laugh and cry as you did, well, that’s more precious than gold, silver, platinum, or jewels.

You and King Arthur would totally exhaust all those around you with your endless supply of stories. You’d be great friends. I know this. You’d laugh and argue and sing and tell tall tales and drive me absolutely insane, but I would love every moment of it. I really wish you could be a part of this world today, Rob. You’d be so surprised at what’s going on. Of course, I’m pretty sure you’re keepin’ an eye on things from a distance and I’m pretty sure you’d have a mouthful to say about all of it.

I miss you, my friend. And today I celebrate you.

Hope there’s a party happenin’ wherever you are.


  1. Nice memorial for a friend.

    Comment by The Gray Monk — 2014/02/17 @ 00:57

  2. {{{HUG}}}

    Comment by pam — 2014/02/17 @ 03:58

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