A Funeral of a Friend

As I pack a bag to get ready for my trek to Forks for the funeral of Don West, I am flooded with memories of how Don intersected my life.

Don and Marsha are a set, and most of my memories involve both of them, but there are a few that stand out as pure Don moments.

It was in the West house that I first discovered a love of photography. Don had a darkroom and all the equipment that comes with it: smelly plastic bins, jugs of chemicals and a cool-looking enlarger who's meaning I didn't fully understand until I took a darkroom class years later. Don was always willing to talk about the darkroom and I soaked that up as a little kid.

Don also loved Diet Pepsi. While our household was sometimes a soda-free house and sometimes a Diet Coke house, I never quite understood the Wests' love of the dark side of the soda wars. But tastes aside, Don's favorite task with the bubbly liquid was to sneak up behind unsuspecting kids, teens, adults (or, maybe it was just me?) and slowly place that chilly, cold can on your neck, making you shriek in some combination of fun, shock and awe... how could he get away with it again and again?

In the house of West I learned of Noble Fir Christmas trees (we always had Douglas, I think) and that people really did put presents *in* their tree. I played softball in their backyard, and took a line drive to the stomach just seconds before I declared that I will never pitch again. I learned how to shuffle cards from Charlie, and from David I learned the word "soundtrack," and, more precisely, that the vinyl disc was not the audio version of the Star Wars movie.

Don, you were and are loved and I hope like crazy that you're dancing about the heavens with my father. Please send him my love and let him know that Griffey is playing for the Mariners again this season.

Rest in Peace.