Farewell, pal o' mine
I've known I was going to be writing this post for about 6 months now, and not looking forward to it. I learned yesterday evening that my old friend, debating partner, guitar playing buddy Allen Patterson - AKA, the Whited Sepulchre - has gone to that place where we all eventually go. Allen was diagnosed with a brain tumor about 6 months ago. After the initial shock, he dealt with it with his usual blend of wit and mockery. We should all face death with such an attitude. One of the things that as I get older I find I dislike about Facebook is that you learn all sorts of life-changing news there scattered among the cat videos and Candy Crush ads. So it was that I first that Allen had passed - on Facebook. He might have been delighted - he regularly delighted in turning around people's perceptions of the "proper" way of doing things. I knew the diagnosis was terminal, but I wasn't ready for him to leave us, dammit. I last saw him at a celebration of h...