Then There Was One

Only the good Lord knows how many times this scene was repeated, but I do know it was a bunch. I'd come in from a long day of fishing and find Marvin Warren (left) sitting beside Dewey Mullins (right) in front of the marina store. This photo was taken the second day of our 2012 Classic, during the cookout afterward, and while you might not see it here, Dewey was one sick fella. It was shortly after this that he went to the hospital and, unfortunately, never returned to the marina.

I have no idea how long Marvin and Dewey had known each other, but Marvin often visited the store. I made more frequent trips there myself in the last three years since I retired, and more times than not, Marvin either already was on the scene when I arrived or showed up before I left. You might title their conversations as "let the good ol' times roll." I nearly always left there with a new story to add to my memory bank.

As I was driving past the store today, on my way out of the marina, I noticed Mavin's vehicle parked at the store. Not a soul but him was there. I couldn't help wondering if maybe Marvin still feels Dewey's presence in a manner of speaking when he's in that setting. I didn't stop to walk around in front of the store, but I'm rather certain, if I had, that I would have found Marvin sitting in one of those white lawn chairs.

Losing a close friend or relative affects people many different ways. I remember, as a teenager, watching my granddad amble around like a lost puppy after my grandma passed. He would sit and sob for hours at a time. And I had my own share of difficulty learning to cope with the loss of my mom and dad. Dewey's passing had an effect on me, too, and I'm certain Marvin knew him for a lot longer period of time than I did.

I can't speak for others, but for me, it's sad when you see the numbers of your friends and relatives steadily dwindling. And there truly isn't a lonelier number than 1.