To put it lightly, my feelings got hurt on August 5, 2014 when I learned from an early morning telephone call from Richie English, that his father, my buddy of 20 years, Mack English, was killed in an accident that occurred on his property. Richie called me moments after he found his daddy next to Panther Creek where Mack had been dragged by a runaway trailer he had attempted to unhitch from his truck. Mack was reckless. He had the knack of being able to channel that recklessness into pure energy, which got him rich at a fairly early age. But, ironically, that material wealth would contribute to the misery that shows on his face in these pictures. His luck ran out. Mack English was a fascinating man. I miss him and still cannot fully come to terms with the fact that he is gone from this life. Mack and Richie were the only persons from my side of things to visit the hospital when my son, Frank, (pictured above), was born. That's the work of a true friend, whom I'll miss for the rest of my life. I literally think of him every day.
