I don't think I'll forget it anytime soon. It was about midnight, I was hanging with two clowns I lovingly refer to as my friends, and the King had just come in from a long day at the hospital, just finishing with a Caesarian section. The Rangers were playing on the TV with the volume down. The King had just kicked back the La-z-boy, finished a coors light, and began a quick descent into sleep. The clowns and I were in the kitchen and the great debate had continued. I concluded as my closing argument, that, "...if I don't check in, she'll come crawling out of her exoskeleton."

In the living room, the King sat up, laughed hardily, cussed the fact that he was now awake, and asked if we wanted a beer, and something to eat.

You see, the King and I instantly became members of the mutual admiration society, and we really enjoy each others company. We don't do it enough. We enjoy stories of each other. We LOVE stories that involve each other. And we really like stories that throw either one of the clowns under the bus.

The King has four kids, all boys. The oldest is a physician. His second oldest is a dentist and has been my co-best friend for 23 years. My buddy is likely the smartest guy I know. The King is likely the smartest guy my buddy knows. And he proclaims it with great pride. Always has. The combination of an incredibly sharp mind, country common sense, and a huge heart, makes for an awesome human being. And a great role model. A rock if you will.

If one was to look at the King, you'd wonder if he could gap your spark plugs right. Old beat-up truck, cheap cigars, and cheap beer. He'd rather grill meat and tell stories than anything, according to my buddy. The ability to tell a story was passed down to my buddy, and yes, he too can spin a yarn. In what may have been the finest backhanded compliment I've ever received (for which I wasn't even there), my buddy was telling the King about an e-mail I'd sent. Now one needs to recall that this is a dentist, speaking of another dentist (me) to a highly regarded physician...the story was told, hilarity ensued, and the King proclaimed, "dang, Geoff really should have gone to California...he should be writing stuff for TV shows." I always enjoyed that line, especially as I was paying off my dental school loans. My buddy says,"You know he thinks you are the funniest thing ever, right?... we all notice how he follows you around like a puppy dog when you are here...just waiting on something to come out your mouth." I chuckled. "No. really,", he said.

But some of this isn't about the King and drinking beer. It's about being a model. Showing what hard work and dedication can do. His sons, all of them, are doing well. They are smart beyond measure, a pleasure to be around, and have kids that are smart and a pleasure to be around. They each go out of their respective ways to make me feel as one of them. They are all wonderful, wonderful folks. Not so subtly they are models to me. Some may say that that is a credit, other now have someone to blame.

Then we fast-forward to this week. The King is sick. I've seen this sick before. I went to visit him a few times. He sleeps a lot. I reacquainted myself with is wonderful family, his cousins, niece, and of course the clown, his son. I stood at the end of the bed of the King, and he looked up in a fog. We were re-introduced. He said, "Of course I know Geoff."

And he laughed.

I ALMOST made it to the truck.

Before I cried.