Bruce's favorite pic of him and Stephanie. Jennifer got this to me.
Bruce let me paint a huge "walking eyeball" on the roof of his VW bug. This was the Beetle with the hole in the floor, Donna.
Capitol Oyster Bar. I believe Delta Moon was playing this night.
Prior to Bruce's 1st wedding.
Tuscaloosa. Shannon, Debbie (Cook) Poe, Bruce, Jimmy Shashy, and George Poe. Debbie and George came in from Oklahoma for the OU-Bama game.
Lane Young, Bruce, and my beloved Bronco II. We were on one of our excursions into Lowndes County.
Donny Johnson, Bruce, and me at BG's 2nd wedding.
Bruce and Steve Richardson when we played on the 5 Kings softball team.
That's Jake in the foreground with Jack at our Posey's Crossroads place. Bruce, Bobo Arrighi and Billy Weldon under the tree.
Brad Richardson, Steve R, Jimmy Bowles, and Bruce.
Josh (background), Ray Ledford, and Bruce at Donna's house.
Brew Pub.
Gail visited a few years back.
When we went to Cincinnati.
Peter Shashy, Sherry Case, Doug Brown, Bill Pepper, me,and Bruce.
Shannon and BG.
There's no way I can sit down and transfer to this blog all the things flying around in my head about ol' Bruce right now. I have yet to accept that he's really not gonna be there when I pull up in his driveway or when I call to see if he wants to get out for a while to listen to music. What I'm going to do is post pics as I can. I may never be able to post the things that need to be said about him. I don't know if this format trivializes a life that was so important and so good. For now, the photos will have to suffice. If I ever get to where I feel comfortable writing about the guy, I'll do so. Right now, his death seems completely surreal and impossible to comprehend. He deserves more than a piece in a blog. He deserved far more than he received at his funeral. Those who knew Bruce...aka "Goose Burley" aka "The Gurley Mon" (my sons liked to call him that) aka BOG (Big Ol' Gurley as Lane and I called him), enjoy the pics for now.
He was my best friend for nearly 40 years. He was my big brother. He was a month younger than me, but he was my BIG brother! No telling how many times he got my stupid ass out of a crack. He was supposed to always be there. No way he was going to be the first to go. We talked about being old men sitting around some restaurant bitching about sports, music, and women. I take that back. Bruce was always a gentleman when it came to women. He would never say anything personal about a girl he cared about. He was decent when the rest of us were animals. He cringed when I was crude in the presence of ladies. Or if a girl was being " discussed", he'd defend her virtue. I never heard him say anything off color about a woman. Never! In 40 years!
I wish I had a photo of the look on his face when I told him our destination had changed for our trip to sell the tee shirts I designed when the Bengals were playing the 49ers in the Super Bowl. The original plan was to sell shirts in Miami, where the game was being played. But, unbeknownst to Bruce, I decided we would go to Cincinnati instead. He came to his door in shorts. I suggested he grab a coat. In Cincy, I stood in snow blowing sideways with my shirts while Bruce, wearing several tee shirts and sweatshirts, glared at me from our rented van.
When we'd come across some awesome music, we'd call each other and jump in the car to ride around and check the new stuff out. Between the two of us, we figured we had virtually every album, tape, and CD ever produced. I imagine we've contributed mightily to the gas problems we're about to face. There's no telling how many miles we logged out in Pike Road and Lowndes County and out Butler Mill Road, Hickory Grove Road, Hillabee Road, Ada-Union Academy something or other road, out toward LeGrand and Grady and Petrey. And now...how am I gonna ride those roads without him sitting to my right?
We must have played a billion games of ping pong and thump football over the years. I can still see Bruce ducking as I fired a ping pong paddle toward his head after a particularly intense game when I lived in Shopton...down in Bullock County. The paddle went through a rather expensive piece of glass in the front door of an old plantation house I was renting. Bruce was really quick back then..the big guy could move.
We used to "argue" about WWII a lot, too. His mom is British and my dad was German. We'd get into it about the Battle of Britain and the whole Brit-German aspect of the war. It was always me saying "We'd have kicked your ass if the oil and steel hadn't run out." Bruce always grinned and got the last word: "Who won?"
We used to "argue" about WWII a lot, too. His mom is British and my dad was German. We'd get into it about the Battle of Britain and the whole Brit-German aspect of the war. It was always me saying "We'd have kicked your ass if the oil and steel hadn't run out." Bruce always grinned and got the last word: "Who won?"
This is awkward. The thought of this being on the internet is at once, both wrong and right. He was a very private person and I don't feel comfortable discussing him in such a public arena; yet he was such a great human being...which was barely mentioned at his funeral (partially Donnie's and my fault, because, when asked by Stephanie if we'd like to say something, neither of us felt we could get a word out without breaking down)...that maybe this is the only way to allow folks a glimpse at the gentle, caring, big-hearted, giving man he was. Jake and Josh always considered Bruce their uncle. I told him a million times I wish I'd been 1/10 the father to my boys that he was to Stephanie. Anyway...I feel extremely privileged to have been a friend of Bruce's.
As I said, I'll add photos as I come across them. I don't have a ton, though. Hopefully, other friends will post pics or get them to me to post. I'll note where they came from if they're not mine.
