The Good Day

We sat in the nose-bleed section. The football field looked way far away and small. I for one was a little drunk and didn't care.

There were twenty-five of us sitting in the North end above the up-rights. We were drinking beer and throwing popcorn at one another. We were mechanics and plumbers and house-painters. We were married-men, and divorcees, some lived with girlfriends. There was a widower or two. Four or five were long standing members of AA. Quite a few others needed desperately to become members, but this was not the day for that discussion.

We had known each other forever.

Of our group, only Harold Jacobi ever attended college. He was always different from us. When we were young that was close to a sin. We laughed at him always. We were never kind. Not a tooth in Harold's mouth seemed to be in its proper place. He had cuspids where incisors belonged. He laughed with his mouth closed. We laughed at his laughter.

On this New Years day at the Rose Bowl Harold and I were actually on national TV. I guess it was our fifteen minutes.

Harold carried a huge sign he raised above his head. It said; The guy behind me can't see.

I was the guy behind.

The cameras caught me leaning left and leaning right and Harold's silly sign always there before me.

It was really very funny, and no one laughed harder than Harold. He laughed with his mouth wide open, his eyes tight closed. He laughed with everything he had. There was an angel on his shoulder; he was on, and he was fun and funny and he could do no wrong.

It was hard to believe.

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