My Friend Maynard.
He would puff up his chest when someone asked him where he was from and with a voice that had more gravel in it than country road he’d say “West Texas!”
He was to say the least gruff. A true biker. Not the citizens you see proudly astride their Harley Davidsons at Starbucks. To him, coffee comes with his biscuits and gravy after he’s been up all night drinking.
I’ve stood back to back with him in more than one fight and never worried about anything behind me. I’ve watched him beat three men with a ruthlessness that defies explanations and seen him hold my daughters hands in his with such gentleness that I’ll always remember it.
He envied me for my family and repeatedly told me how lucky I was to have such a beautiful wife and daughter.
He fought in Vietnam. Spent some time locked up. Loved this country to the depths of his soul and would lay you out flat on your back if you bad mouthed it.
If I am to convey one thing is this writing I want you to know that this was a man. The kind you just can’t find anymore. He was a stand up guy. No apologies. You got what you saw. No hidden agendas.
He was my boss and my friend. One of the few people that I held close and tonight I found out he was dead.
He suffered from bouts of depression and drank and ate downers like they were the only solace he could find.
He didn’t get this thing that we share. Didn’t want it for a minute. And I am so angry at him for that. I had always hoped he would find it in time.
He lived his life on his terms. Didn’t bow down to anyone. I will miss my friend. Terry Maynard.