Not My Place

Alright.
I guess that those of you who knew him already know this, but Joe Coady died recently in a manner both tragic and abrupt.
I've been wrestling with whether or not I should mention him.
It's entirely likely that Joe Coady wouldn't want me discussing his death in my blog.
I didn't know him.

Maybe I shouldn't say anything, so I'll just say this:
The day that I met him everyone in the Turpin living room was clad in a Christmas sweater.
People were milling, chatting, drinking egg nogg with egg in it.
And in the middle of it all, Joe was reading what seemed to be some sort of a spy's handbook.
Very intently.