Yesterday, another one of my Jesuit brothers, Wally Pontiff, died in his sleep. I was never more than acquaintances with him, but as everyone in New Orleans knows he was a class act, all around great guy. When I was going through my rebellious teenager phase, he embodied the untouchably cool jock stereotype. However, he was different, somehow. He talked to you like a buddy, he looked you in the eye, and he at least pretended to be interested. He would go out of his way for you.

I just remembered something. During my freshman year of high school, I caught a ride with a friend to a football game after party...there was a KEG. Holy crap! Anyway, I was feeling pretty proud of myself, being at a party and all. However, getting home was turning out to be a problem around 1am, especially since I didn't drive yet. Wally somehow sensed this and offered me a ride home. Five minutes into the drive, he asked me if I like Nine Inch Nails, since he had seen the logo on my bookbag at school. I replied yes, and with that he pulled the car, went in the back seat, and produced The Downward Spiral. I laughed out loud then, and I'm smiling now.

A life cut short for whatever reason. No reason. Maybe he was just too fucking special to live on earth. But even though it is so depressing to think about it, I know that he lived the days of his life to the fullest. He touched so many people. You can't help but feel good when you think of him like that