I didn't meet Todd until the 3rd grade when we moved across town and across the alley from the Gaudreaus. One thing that didn't change throughout his life was how he welcomed new people. For the next 5 years, we were best friends. I don't know how many days we spent out at their cabin, or sleeping over in his basement, or sneaking peeks of his big brothers' Playboys under the mattress, or roaming downtown at Ben Franklin, trudging through the snow to the Old Armory to play basketball in the biting cold Saturday mornings and the other way to the outdoor pool at Harmon every day in the summer...but there's no doubt that my own formative years were influenced by his genteel nature. I could never figure out his proclivity for muscle mags...maybe because he was (very past tense) a little wimpy back then, but I'm sure it wasn't long after high school that he put that behind him for good.  I would go with him selling his Grit newspaper/magazine for a 35 cents around the neighborhood and he'd come with me on my paper route (I delivered to his house), and I have no idea what we used that money for -- was it all on candy? We'd head over to help Larrty out at the carwash, and spent hours sitting 65 feet up the pine tree next door where we could survey the whole Basin, two short twerps safe from the big, bad world. Later when we climbed the huge light towers down by the tracks, his doleful tears saved us from getting in trouble from the station workers when the ordered us down, and from the security guard when we were rooting around the Gibson's construction site before it was Pamida before it was some recreation/rehab center(?) and from two big-kid asshole bullies who cornered us down by the Heddrich's building. I remember some rare times when he'd try to be angry at someone or something. It was like he couldn't do it! He'd put on a face that was clearly an imitation of what he thought an angry person should look like. He couldn't mask his natural goodness.

Even though we had (mostly) different interests in high school, we still hung out sometimes and when I'd come home from college, he was usually the first person I'd track down and we'd catch up. When the Navy took me out here to California, we didn't communicate much except when I was back in Williston for the holidays, and I didn't see him after my folks moved out to GF.  When facebook became a thing, we'd send our greetings and he'd keep me updated about our friends who died, and I'd send him updates about my mundane life out here. I loved seeing his ridiculous (but interesting) oilfield videos. Seeing his omnipresent goofy smile and perpetual great attitude would put an equally goofy smile on my own face.  David (Everson) -- that's what we called him back then -- lived down the street and we played with him in grade school sometimes, and when he died I felt it. But I'm sure Todd and I went months at a time seeing each other every day, and with the exception of good Navy friend of mine, I've been fortunate enough to not have lost a real best friend. Until now. I reached out when I was in GF in August (I thought he'd be heading through on his way home from his treatment in MN) but it didn't work out.  Ouch. I'm glad that I at least let him know recently how much I've valued our friendship.

Say what you want about facebook, but it keeps me close to the far away people, and brings to mind the  precious times we've been together. Having a childhood friend like Todd was a gift. I envy those of you who were able to get close as an adult. Reading these posts, I know he gave a lot of happiness and comfort to a lot of people by just being his wonderful kind self. Is there better legacy than that? Todd, you've lived a great life and I'm filled with gratitude having known you.