My friend Ray

My old buddy Ray died the week before Christmas. I've known him for as long as I can remember. He never finished high school, but he was an incredible carpenter.

The year after I retired from MaBell, I decided to remodel the house. We spent weeks rebuilding the decks, building arbors, and putting concrete siding on the house. He showed up at 7 a.m. daily and worked until quitting time.

Every couple hours, he'd take a break. We'd find a shady spot in the backyard and sit for a few minutes. He drank ice tea from his thermos and smoke unfiltered Camels. He never ate lunch because he said it slowed him down.

When we started back to work, he'd stand for a long moment organizing his actions in his head before reaching for his hammer or saw. He measured carefully. After make a mark with a flat pencil he kept behind his ear, he would study the marks just to make sure they hadn't moved. When he cut and placed the wood it always fit snugly.

A few years ago, I had a little work that needed to be done. When I called him, he said he'd been having problems with his heart and that he wasn't doing much work.

Several times when Jilda and I passed his house after that, we'd see him out on his porch swing or sitting on the tailgate of his truck. He had always been thin as a reed, but the last time we saw him at the grocery store, he looked frail.

When we got word just before Christmas that he'd died, we were saddened, but not surprised.

I always admired Ray. He was a craftsman, and as straight as his ruler. If he told you something you could take it to the bank. I never heard him cuss or talk badly about anyone. I will miss my friend.