How Would You Like to be Remembered?

Thirty six years ago I entered the workforce as an agent for a company which no longer exists called, Life of Virginia. My first day on the job I was introduced to the guy who I would share a tiny 10x10 office with for the next six months. I quickly gave him the nickname...Hexhead...and we got along great. A mutual friend from those old days sent me a note this morning informing me of his passing. Hexhead is dead. This news has transported me back in time to what life was like thirty six years ago. Its been part fond nostalgia and part nightmare.

Some things from those days are nearly impossible to believe. In 1983, I shared that tiny, cramped office with a guy who chain-smoked Marlboros. Hexhead made no apologies, never asked if I minded if he smoked, nor would I ever have expected him to. If I walked down the hall, about every other office had at least one smoker. Every single day, I went home smelling like cigarette smoke. But of all of my worries and concerns back then, the fact that my office-mate smoked was 36th on the list. I try to imagine what I would do today if someone came in my office and lit up a Marlboro!! In one generation smoking inside public buildings has gone from being ubiquitous to unimaginable. Amazing.

Hexhead was a good dude, if a bit rough around the edges. He had a loud, infectious laugh, and a great sense of humor. There was also no chance in a thousand hells that he would make it in the insurance business. He marched to the beat of a very different drummer, one who had only a passing knowledge of the beat. There is one clear memory I have of the man and it’s a doozy...

One Friday, our sales manager invited several of us for a day on the Chesapeake Bay on his beautiful sailboat. Girlfriends and wives were invited, so Pam...then my girlfriend...came along. It was a gorgeous day and as the boat cut it’s way briskly through the water while we sipped our adult beverages...all was well with the world. Then Hexhead got up and moved from the stern of the boat to it’s bow for a better view. Unlike the rest of us who were wearing swim suits so we could dive in if it got hot, Hexhead was sporting cutoff jeans. When he sat down in front of the rest of us at the front of the boat we all instantly realized that he was not wearing underwear.

There he was, oblivious...his full glory prominently displayed for all to see. We laughed. We cried. We had the mental image permanently burned into our brain for all of eternity...so much so that when my friend sent me the news of his passing...it was the very first memory that..er, um...reared it’s head.

I read the obituary. It was exactly the sort of obituary I would expect his family to write. He loved life, was full of fun and whimsy, loved by everyone. Yes, yes and yes. RIP, Hexhead.