Northeast Tony
Tony worked out at the same Y as me – the Northeast Y in Louisville. He was older than just about everybody who worked out there but the man could pump more iron than guys half his age. I admired his discipline and grit. He never slacked or gave up in the middle of a set. Sometimes, on those days when I wasn’t feeling it, I would walk by him and shake my head and he would smile and nod “yes”. We never talked much because that’s not what we went there for. This went on for years. I didn’t even know his last name. When I talked about him to friends, I just called him Northeast Tony. Finally, one day, I suggested going out for a beer. We did and I found out we had a lot in common besides weightlifting. He had lived in France for a while and spoke French like me. And like me, he loved to read history. And finally, after years of saying “Hi” and small talking I finally asked him his last name. And from then on Northeast Tony became Tony Forman. I really miss his nods of encouragement. He was an inspiration to me. I’m glad I told him that.