What’s wrong with people? I want one little piece of gossip—a follow-up on a juicy bone that someone tossed me via email today, but I can’t get the tale-teller—or anyone (all two other people that I asked within the last ten minutes)—to reply.
It isn’t as if the news is earth-shattering. It isn’t even as if the news would be all that interesting to more than me and maybe three or five or perhaps seven other people. It isn't even as if anyone has had time to answer me yet.
And it isn’t prurient gossip, but rather information gossip (although I am not sure how to quantify or qualify the difference).
But no one is going to get hurt. The deed, and it was a fairly innocuous deed, has been done.
Nothing malicious was intended. Nothing malicious occurred.
No one was rude.
No one got shot.
No one, as far as I know, was hurt in any way.
No one (again, as far as I know) will even care in long-lasting ways, past the “Oh, we’re going to miss him” stage.
But I care. I really liked him. He was smart and funny and he had a fabulous face. He was tall and he wore great shoes and he had a wonderful sense of humour.
I don’t think he much cared for me one way or the other (I don’t mean that in a disparaging way; only in a true way), because I think he found me a bit silly and uninformed (and against him, I am). But I remember reading when I was a child that a mark of character is knowing you can admire someone even if you are not their particular cup of tea (or, in this case, Coffey).
Anyway, his name happens to be Mark, and he was, and is, a Mark of character.
And now he’s gone.
And now I’ll miss him.
