This is a story that I would have never thought that I would be writing unless the world was coming to an end.
My name is Jeremy Jorgensen and I live four houses down from Gordy. Gordy and I were quite the pair. As I would come home from work in the afternoon I would search the street for the "The Big Bad White Dodge" with the peeling paint that had only been washed twice since he had bought it. If the truck was there and the garage door was open it was game on...that was our mutual signal. I would usually wander down to...to pick up my daughter...and see what kind of things he was working on or creating. As I would walk into the garage Gordy would always say "Whattsss UUUP, ready for a chilly one"? I would reply yep and we would get started on something that most of the time had something to do with guns or amo.
On Tuesdays it was wing day at The Native New Yorker. On the rare occasion he was home on a Tuesday we would jump in his truck and head out for a couple dozen wings complimented by a few 'chilly ones'. On the other days we would just sit around in the garage and solve the worlds problems. Somehow we always got on the topic of all of the 'dumb' people in the world.
The time I got to spend with him will be treasured and remembered for the rest of my life. He was a great friend.
Much luv to my homeboy, RIP,