Dillow was the funniest kid in the seventh grade. He called me double J, and I called him Dillow.
Turned out our grandpas lived near each other out in Bargersville. One day we went fishing on his grandpa's pond. Didn't catch much but we had a pretty good mud fight, and that's about as close as life ever got to the book Harris and Me.
After all these years, it was good to run in to him at the bars one night last summer. You know, it's said the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation, but Dillow's not very quiet. He's just a good hombre.
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