It's getting on to 14 years since I wrote about Sonny Jacobs and Peter Pringle. I teared up when I wrote that post and suggested that you, my faithful readers might do that also. I just read it again, and teared up again. Of course, I'm easy. But still.
It's a bit more than a year and a half since I last posted anything here - not because I didn't have things to say but because . . . . Damned if I know. I just haven't. (Greenfield, how do you keep doing it day after day and year after year?)
Why now, you may wonder? Why today? It's about death.
See, I'm old. What goes with being old is knowing too many people who are ill, too many people who've died. And given decades of work defending folks who were charged with, convicted of, very bad things, many of whom were sentenced to be killed by the minions of the state - and too many of whom were killed by those minions - death is something that . . . . Well as Jodi Ernst stupidly (if accurately) said, we're all gonna die one of these days.
And so it is that Peter Pringle died a couple of years ago, though if I knew that it didn't register. But when I learned that Sunny died in a house fire this morning, it sent me back. And as I said, it sent me crying. And made me take up the computer and write this.
Go back then, and read the original post if you will. (No need to search, here's the link: https://gamso-forthedefense.blogspot.com/2011/11/in-galway-bay-love-story.html)
And I want to add this picture from the NY Times article I cited and quoted then, a picture which, for some reason, I apparently didn't include back then.
May her memory be a blessing. We've reached that stage of life, my friend. The least we can do is remember.
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