In Memory of My Cousin

When I was a kid, this long-haired hippie cousin of my Dad's would come stay with him in New Orleans. He was so crazy and full of life...I always looked forward to his and his daughter's visits. He gave me my copy of The Little Prince, and when I was older Anne of Green Gables. He always gave books away - maybe that's where I got that habit from - but I kept those. I visited him at his place in San Jose del Cabo, where the trailer I stayed in got broken into and all my stuff stolen in the middle of the night. I had dreamed of a cattle stampede that night. My Covington High duffel bag was found months later by Mexican authorities, I still have it. I don't remember him always being the most responsible, but I will always cherish my memories of him, and his crazy reckless life-loving freedom I've kept more than a little bit of.