We met January 1, 1977. I was thirteen and he was thirty. Who could know that this was the beginning of a friendship that lasted almost 30 years. A friendship that has extended beyond his death three years ago. Russell was my best friend.

Russell had a life that many would envy. He was a roadie for Jam Productions for many years. He drove a truck for The Bangles, Metallica, Roberta Flack, and George Benson just to name a few. He managed a stripper named Susan for many years and they were in love. The last fifteen years of his life were spent driving a cab around the North Shore suburbs of Chicago.

Russell loved women. The only thing he loved more than women was food. His favorite thing in the world is what killed him. He was a large man, 6'5" and at the time of his death I would say he was close to 700 lbs.

He was everything to me except my lover. He was never more than a phone call away. He was part of every birthday, holiday, triumph and tragedy. He would call at three in the morning to play trivia or name that tune. He was alway impressed that I could name that tune in one note. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was playing songs that were so unique (at least to me) that it was a piece of cake to name it in one note. I was number one on his cell phone speed dial. For some reason his phone would call me on it's own from time to time. Once the phone called me from his saddlebags during a motorcycle trip to Michigan.

Once I moved to South Dakota he visited me every summer during the Sturgis Rally. That first summer he became tired easily and was having difficulty breathing. He refused to see a doctor but did consent to letting me listen to his lungs with my stethoscope. I told him I thought he needed to see a cardiologist immediately. He refused. He did go see his family doctor upon returning to Chicago. His doctor confirmed my diagnosis, congestive heart failure. He was hospitalized and told that if he did not lose weight he would die. I was so angry with him. I screamed at him and told him that if he left this world because he refused to go on a diet that I would never forgive him and I would not come to his funeral. He promised that he would lose the weight. The year came and went, Russell came to visit and his condition was worse. He only visited one more time after that.

He told me he was too broke to make the trip the year that he died. I found out after his death that he was in the hospital again. He was afraid to tell

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