Everybody needs good neighbors

I got home a little late this evening and noticed that my neighbor Tony's door was open.  I figured he might step out and say hello. But as usual, I rushed in and got settled. 

I thought of Tony a few times today.  How I call him "Mr. Tarantino" even though he's my neighbor, this morning I wondered if the alarm I set in the kitchen to keep me on schedule ever wakes him up in the morning.  His parking spot is near the back entrance to the building, and I recalled when one of the windows fell off the building and smashed the back window.

My garbage.  Man, it stunk.  Snuggy pants and a sweatshirt are not the way you want to be seen in your building on any given day, but the stinky stuff had to go.  At the elevators, my neighbor peeked out of her door and said that my neighbor Tony had died... the coroners were there at that very moment tending to his body.  I took the trash out so that I could get back upstairs and talk with my neighbor.  The door to Tony's apartment opened and I was about to see what I really didn't want to... the suited coroners bringing out the gurney with his body in the bag.  Police.  My apartment manager Mark, who is a sensitive soul and is also who received the call from Tony's daughter that he hadn't answered the phone. He opened Tony's door for her today, and thus there when his body was discovered. 

The coroner said that he collapsed in the kitchen, probably after hanging up the phone with his son. I've said this many times, but they always wait until they've been able to say goodbye or otherwise touch base before they sneak away.

I think of Tony as a man the way men used to be.  He carried himself like an adult and had a good sense of humor, you always felt valued around him.  He was a gentleman.  So much so that I called him "Mr. Tarantino".  He said, "please, call me Tony."