I Miss My Friend, Dave

Nelson.  Nielson.  Saw his name spelled both ways.  He never seemed to care which one was the right one.

We met when we went to work for Youth Corrections closing down the old, State School in Ogden and opening the new, Decker Lake Youth Facility in West Valley back in 1983.  We hit it off immediately.  He liked whiskey and college football, and Golden Eagles Hockey.  So we hung out away from work a lot.

He liked Deb, and we had just met.  But turns out, Deb was not a big fan of Dave's.  And I found out later that she had pretty good reasons.  He never did anything bad to her, treated her with nothing but respect.  But he pulled me into some situations that could have been ugly.

I left Youth Corrections after six months and went to work for The Juvenile Court.  It was a regular job, with regular hours.  I was a Probation Officer.  Mostly sitting in offices, counseling kids and families and writing reports for the court's Judges.

Dave and I stayed friends.  We had some adventures.  Some epic travels to places like Jackson Hole and Yellowstone.  Many times with our friend, Tracy.  Crazy nights spent at, The Million Dollar Cowboy Bar, and other places.

But Dave had some problems.  Mental health problems that he tried to self medicate with alcohol and marijuana.  His mom had spent some time in a mental hospital, and I think Dave was suffering the same way. And the self medication didn't work out for him.  Got him fired from the State.  He went to work in the insurance industry, and that didn't work out either.  He ended up in social services in Davis Country, but another DUI got him fired from that job.

According to his last girlfriend that I knew, who was much younger than him, he was drinking all the time.  Started every morning, and drank all day at work, and all night at home.

One night, he shot up his own house when she threatened to leave him.  The Cops came and took away his gun.  He wanted me to buy him another one the next day.  I bought him a sandwich instead, and told him no.

He was pretty good with his money.  He was never broke, and never out on the street.  Always had a nice apartment and a nice car.  Even when he'd been fired from work.

Last time I saw Dave, Deb and I were living in West Jordan.  Meagan wasn't very old.  Danny wasn't born yet.  And out of the blue he called one day and asked if he could come out for a, "Dog Day" Friday with my friend, Phil.  So I gave him directions.

When he got there, it was pretty obvious that his life was out of control.  He'd pissed himself.  I gave him a pair of my work out shorts, that I never say again.  We was drinking like crazy.

Deb wanted me to throw him out, but I couldn't do it.  I let him stay for dinner.  And I'm glad I did.  Cause it was the last time I saw him.  He had great and grandiouse plans, which it was pretty obvious that a guy sitting on your patio in YOUR shorts cause he pissed himself driving out to your house, were never going to happen.

I often wonder if he had gotten the proper mental health help, would he still be here with us?

Cause a few weeks after this visit, I heard that his brother went to check on him in his apartment and found him dead on his couch.  He had no resources, and his father wouldn't have anything to do with him, so the Country buried him.  I have no idea where.

He was one of the smartest guys I ever knew.  He was awesome with delinquent kids.  He was so talented in social work.  Loved cars, and good music.  The outdoors, Yellowstone, Teton Park, and Jackson Hole's cowboy bars.  He was the most interesting man I think I have ever known.

And he pissed his life away.

I miss him cause I think he would be really happy for me.  For how well I've done.  For Deb and I being together for 28 married years.  And he would LOVE the, Bitchin' Camaro and going to see my friend, Lisa do comedy with me in Las Vegas.  I really miss this guy.

I don't tell this story as some cautionary tale.  I'm not making judgements.  I'm just missing a friend tonight.

When I go get my hip replaced here shortly, Dave would be the guy who would show up with a mini bottle of Jack Daniels and a pack of Dunhill Cigarettes (He wouldn't know I quit smoking in 2003 since he's been dead longer than that!) and I never mix alcohol with narcotics.  Which might be why I'm still alive, and he isn't.  But it's the thought that counts.

So, here's to you Dave!  I miss you.  You're pictures would be ALL over Facebook, and your precence  would be regular in, The Garage Ma Hall all winter and the back yard all summer.

So it goes.  You win some, you lose some.  And you really miss some.  I miss you Dave.  But I was lucky to have you in my life for a little while.