Tom Alexander, who was among the greatest blessings in my
life, passed away on August 4.
Not sure when we met.
But I remember a triple date in 1973.
Six of us packed into his dad’s 1969 Camaro. Lucky me, a 15-year-old with a 16-year-old
friend so I could date Mary Lou. We saw Papillon
and returned to my basement for ping pong.
A true friend throughout high school, Tom remembered my
birthdays and organized parties, including the one he took a picture of in 1975
and sent me last year.
Off to different colleges we went. Still, we met a couple of times in Southern
California at Thanksgiving. I remember
the night at some disco drinking Southern Comfort (to great discomfort the next
day) and bumping to “I don’t bump no more with no big fat woman.”
Distance and life made it difficult for us to be face to
face. Yet, we got together in Arizona, Illinois,
Oregon and Missouri, and we kept in touch by phone.
Just knowing Tom was out there made me feel good – supported
and loved. I knew if I were down, I
could call. If things were great, I
could share the news.
Tom was an unselfish, honest, considerate, responsible man
with integrity.
Everyone trusted
Tom.
He was a good man.
We last got together shortly after his diagnosis two years
ago. It was a good visit with meaningful
conversation. Even then, unselfish Tom was
more concerned about the impact of his brain cancer on his loved ones,
especially Stacy and his mom.
Better than a friend, Tom felt like a big brother, whom I
miss terribly.
And he taught his dogs commands in English and Greek!
