Roger and Me (202.8)
I’m pretty sure the first time I met Roger was when he stayed at my house for a weekend when visiting his daughter, a friend of mine in town whose studio apartment didn’t lend itself to guests.
He was a friendly houseguest and enjoyed hanging out with Penny, still an only dog at the time, if I recall correctly.
I’ve seen Roger several times since, including when he came for his daughter’s wedding, and I was very sad to learn Saturday that he had died that morning. He had been dealing with congestive heart failure and was in increasingly poor health.
Roger’s drink was single malt scotch, so I polished off the bottle of the oldest malt I had Saturday night, a 1997 Dufftown.
Here’s to you, Roger. Thanks for having awesome kids.