When I moved to Ventura, I met a guy named Nick.

I hadn’t seen him in close to five years when I heard he’d been killed by a drunk driver on May 11, 2011.

I was devastated.  Nick had been one of my first friends in this city.  While we had only spent short amounts of time together, he moved something in me with his uncommon kindness, his superior intellect, his patience and his love of animals.

Around Christmas, boat owners bedeck their vessels in lights and glide through the Ventura Keys and the Harbor in winter celebration.  I think I was 7 or maybe 8 when Nick came to my house to watch the Parade of Lights.  His mom and my mom knew each other somehow.  Nick and his brother, Griffin, strode out onto my deck.  Nick made a beeline for the ramp to the boat dock, running his hand down the white light-wrapped rail.

“Do you ever catch crabs?” he asked me.

“What?”

“You know… put meat on a string and try to catch crabs.  They come pretty easy if you let them nibble on the meat for a while then you can put them in a bucket and play with them.”

I was stunned and surprisingly happy this older guy was talking to me.  Shaking my head, I followed him onto the ramp.

Even though it was getting dark, he swung down from the ramp, landing lightly on the rocks several feet below.

“Come on,” he said, holding his hand out to me.

I took it, still happy and slightly confused.  He helped me down and knelt near the waterline, his eyes darting back and forth across the rocks, searching.Read More »