If you didn't already know, I was in a fraternity in college. One of the fun things about being in a fraternity was the guys you not only got to meet, but got to know. Through the pledge period, you certainly got to know your pledge brothers well - better than most of the other brothers.
There were all kinds of characters in our pledge class; there were guys with names like Rick and Rob and Jeff (whose name was Gunch Ffej if you pronounced it backwards). There were others with names like Dudley and Schaff (can you dig it?). And then there were still others like Woody, Goat, Scud, Homey Dog, and JimBob (if you don't know which of those ten was me, well, I'm not telling).
Something about fraternity life leads one to believe that life will last forever. I pretty much am of the opinion that if the kitchen didn't kill us, nothing could.
That myth was shattered this week, as I got the news: JimBob died of heart failure.
It certainly made me think. About my own mortality, about how short life is, and about Jim Bob.
We used to joke that he was a vampire. Not because he'd bite people (that would have been waaay out of his character), but because he was pretty much nocturnal. He'd stay up all night, only to sleep all day. Sometimes he'd be up for 36 hours straight. I remember once when he stayed up all night studying for yesterday's test.
He was one of the good guys, and this world will miss him.