Well, St. Patrick’s Day has come around again. Hard to believe; the years are spinning by in greased grooves. Happy St. Patrick’s Day to all who care.

Every year, I mark March 17 in a special way, for a special reason. On March 17, 1995, my friend Mark passed away at the age of 30, following a protracted illness. So now it’s been 10 years. I remember it clearly: the call from his mother, the drive to San Jose, the funeral.

Mark was a really good guy. Quiet and good natured. A good roommate and friend. We always got along. He taught me to play backgammon, though in the intervening decade, I’ve forgotten how. I miss him. And if he were still in the world as I know it, we’d go up to Mt. Lassen, and take a hike in the melting snow.