I learned, quite by accident because this is the sort of thing one rarely seeks to learn, that a former co-worker of mine has recently passed away. Henry R. Higgins was 73 when he finally gave up the ghost after several long bouts with illness. Henry was in the Korean War taking aerial photographs over enemy lines while lying on his belly in a plane that may as well have had a big red circle painted on it. He was a master typesetter, one of those old-school guys who don't consider this new age of typesetting with computers to count as the same thing. Still, he taught me a lot about the art.

Henry hated growing old, not because being old was bad, but because, for him, it was boring. He preferred to be working rather than sitting on his porch or plaing golf at 6am with other retirees. Still, he had a very full life with his family, friends, and business.

He was always ready with a good story about "the old days" and was a man of his generation--both a gentleman and a bit of throwback, but his charm made it work.

Let's see.. other memories of Henry... he always wore white shoes and slacks in summer, and as soon as Labor Day passed, he'd be back to brown and tan. He always looked forward to his island vacations to ogle pretty girls in string bikinis. He had a helluva flower garden. Anyone of any vague ethnic descent was always referred to as "one of those people." No one was ever sure what he meant by that, but there was never any meanness about it and he treated everyone equally (whether they were being treated good or bad, he never played favorites). That's just how he was and you overlooked it.

Anyway, I'm proud to say he was a friend, and was even more happy that, even though he got screwed by my workplace and fired after one of his hospital stays, he still took the time to call me from time to time to say hello and to chat.

We'll miss you, Henry. Give 'em hell, and don't take any crap.