Hoo Boy! Was It Ever Cold

I left Boone, Iowa yesterday morning for a four hour drive to the Kansas City area. My long time home town friend had set up a tee time for us at 11 am so I had to get out of town before six. Naturally, I had checked the forecast and it called for 45 degrees with rain, maybe. You know the old saying, "it never rains on the golf course". Steve and I have know each other since we started kindergarten in 1951. We have a unique relationship. We've been together for weddings, births, vacations and funerals; all the good times and bad that solidify a relationship. Our children are the same ages as are our grandchildren. We've had a wonderful journey together.
Steve's older brother used to get his goat frequently. Even though he wasn't, his brother, Al, nicknamed him Fat. Everyone called him Fat, all the way through college and beyond. I don't know if Stevie was trying to live up to his name but he got, guess what, fat. I never had the courage to ask but if I had to I'd say around 285. I do want to give him a compliment. He carried it well. I'm not sure how the conversation started but a number of years ago our talk evolved into food and eating. I do have to interject one thing. Steve is a great cook. It's his forte'. Anyway, I must have said the wrong thing because The Fat Man came back with, "Hey, I like to eat, alright! About six months ago Stevie had had enough. He went on some super, duper diet. He has to be down around 220 and he's probably six foot three. He looks great. Back to the golf story. Yesterday, we were on the fourth hole and I said, thinking about today and the weather, "Think back to all the stupid things we've done together over the years: the list is endless. I had made up my mind that our golf round might fit into that category. The temp was 45 when we started but by the fourth hole the wind had picked up dramatically. At number 14 my toes were screaming, "take me home"! My fingers weren't far behind in echoing the same thought. Finally, and it was a godsend, it started drizzling. That's it. Enough! We headed the cart toward the parking lot just as snow flakes came swirling.
It was a great day. We don't see each other enough. We reminisced and laughed and told humiliating stories of ourselves and our friends. Laughing about friends is a whole lot funnier than laughing at ourselves. It's an ego thing. Know what I mean?
I love to reflect on events so last night I thought back on all that had occurred and what was said and one thing stuck in my mind. I am so used to calling 'Fat' by his nickname. I've done it since 1958 and I can't do it anymore. We were walking off hole number four. Stevie was ten paces ahead of me and I noticed something very unique as I looked at Steve's backside. It used to be as wide as the Queen Mary. "Steve," I said, "where's you ass? It's completely gone"!
It doesn't take a whole lot to make my day and Stevie's lack of a butt did. I can only wonder where it went but there's someone out there with his former nickname and it can't be very pretty.