I helped clean out my friend Sam's apartment yesterday. To say that the cleaning was profoundly sad is to overstate nearly everything. The apartment was a terrible mess. The grief that I felt for Sam was muted by the appalling mess in the apartment. Our Man just never threw away anything, including the hairs that he shed. We found enough to make a wig. Sam was from Eastern Kentucky. We are taught to not wish for much in Kentucky. Don't aim high; aim low so that you can at least hit the ground. Nobody says that, but that's the motto. Sam was gay. He had to leave Eastern Kentucky because of that. He was nearly beaten to death on a couple of occasions by law enforcement. I pretty sure that he sustained brain damage from the beatings. He was a manager at a restaurant in North Carolina. I never got the story of how he got there or why he left; Sam was a stoner. Time, if he wasn't going to work, wasn't a consideration for him. Sam told one of our friends that the 35 yea...