Ahh, the first Saturday in May, The big day. I have always loved horse racing, and these young horses may become the Kings among princes. I always pick a winner and a long shot, and although I never bet money, if I did I would have won big several times in the last few years. I have a pretty good average. During the years I slaved away at Ye Olde Sign Shoppe I was blessed with an older friend who worked kinda next door. He was a bright old fellow, an Irish lad who loved- you guessed it, whiskey, women and fast horses. The women always let him down, the doctors told him to quit drinking, but horse racing was something we spent many worthwhile hours discussing at great length. He also rode his bicycle a lot, and he rode in several fundraisers every year. One of these is held on the same day as the Derby, between Great Falls and Helena. Well, he couldn’t miss his race, and he couldn’t miss his ride, so he pedaled as far as he could before post time and caught a ride back to the bar for the race. He was physically broken down, needed his knees replaced, broke from ex-wives and medical bills, tired of working so hard to pay everyone else, but so happy and full of a childlike love of life every day it was a joy to be around him. He retired, began drawing Social Security, signed up to be a Foster Grandparent, lived for just himself for a few happy months. And then we learned he had had a massive heart attack in the night and would never cheer our days with his impish smile again. I do not remember the exact date he died, but every year, on the first Saturday in May, with bittersweet joy I remember my friend.