Goodbye Tony, my hometown buddy
My hometown friend Tony Verovich passed away. I didn’t know it until I read it in the paper this week. For some reason, this one hurts more than usual. Tony and I had a connection that you only get from people who come from your same hometown.
We didn’t grow up together, and he’s 21 years my senior. A few years ago, I met him when I started volunteering each Saturday at the Silver City Gospel Mission. The first time I saw him, he was having some incredible back pains and walked with a large stick.
Soon enough, though, I experienced that Tony smile. Isn’t it funny how you feel an unexplainable connection with someone from your hometown? We’re from different generations, but in some ways we lived the same lives.
We know the same corner “changarrito” where you could buy snacks and the daily paper. We know the 8th Street Park where you could watch a little league game or enjoy the annual fiestas.
Both of us know about the same hometown characters you see pushing shopping carts. The kind of guys you say hi to because they are always hanging around grocery store parking lots. Every hometown has them.
