The World's Lousy

Last week, I fought off an endless week of school work and regular work, looking forward to the President's Day weekend in which I didn't have to go to school on Monday. I could sleep in, watch the Daytona 500, and simply relax.

It all came to an abrupt end Monday night when I received two voice mail messages on my phone.

The first one was from Rick, a good friend of mine from college. I basically spaced out when my old roommate Josh left the second message.

My other roommate from the house on Liberty Avenue in Mad-Town and a great friend (and fellow Vikings fan), 1st Lt. Jason Timmerman was killed in Iraq yesterday.

I was absolutely numb last night. I called Josh and talked to him for a while. It was just so damn surreal and it was too hard to comprehend. I slept like shit ... even got up to vomit because I was shaking so much.

Details are sketchy and I don't want to go into them. Fact is, he's no longer with us.

What really sucks ass is that he just celebrated his 1-year wedding anniversary last December when he was back on leave. Talk about the perfect couple: Jason and Theresa. She played college basketball and I nicknamed her "Empire" after the Empire State Building because she's so tall. We, along with Jason, took our College of Education classes together before they moved on and graduated. I, however, still had work to do.

Damn, the memories. I remember pimpin' out at Jason's house one weekend and "MattRand!" and I partied in Marshall at the old "Rock." Completely got bombed -- but Jason was always there to be the designated driver.

This was an excerpt from my old "blog," or "journal" if you will on my old site. Here are selections from October 16, 2001 -- recapping our Vikings trip to Minneapolis.

As you may have read, us four were on a mission.
I'm not really sure what time we took off, but I hopped in with Josh in his Ranger since he had to go winterize his jet-ski at Timmerman's. Jason got in with Hoff in his van and we trekked our way back in MN, keeping in touch with walkie-talkies.

We got to Jason's place, which is just north of Marshall, around supper time. Jason's parents made us some lasagna and garlic bread, so we all pigged out and sat around for a while before we made our way to The Gambler. We arrived in Marshall about 9:00 p.m. that Saturday night ... thus the fun begins.
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I was so drunk that I seriously couldn't dance. I can't even remember what I talked about. I just kept going and going. I think I even remember Sean getting up to do a little fast-dancing. After the bar shut down, the only thing I remember is going back to Jason's place and going to sleep in the camper outside. Before we knew it, it was 6:15 a.m. Sunday morning, and we had to get up for the Vikings game.

I was still drunk. I managed to eat breakfast without throwing up. I stopped by my house in Hanley to pick up some cash and we drove off for the Twin Cities. But right before we hit Granite Falls, Hoff lost his breakfast on Hwy. 23 and left a huge pile. I damned near lost it, but I kept it intact.
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The highlight was when Josh started to doze off during the 4th quarter. Hoff, Sisson, and I were about through with the whole weekend. Jason was off the wall. I can't believe all the energy that guy had. Especially when the Dome started to play, "I'm Proud To Be An American" and when the song got to the point when it said, "Stand Up!", Jason was the only guy standing up and we just sat there looking at him, laughing. It was great.

That is the story that we always tell when we get together. Damn, I miss that. Jay and I even made a "how-to-wrap-an-ankle video" for Athletic Injuries class, and on top of that, Jason was with me when I ran the college golf cart into the fence at the football field.

The world's lousy. Jason's gone. What's next?

For the Star Tribune article, click here.