He was more than just a friend, my Uncle, a brother to my Father. I knew him as the gentle giant. Greeting me with his mountainous bear embrace and sitting on his lap to be engulfed in his brilliantly described anecdotes from start to finish. It was as if you were apart of the adventure he divulged in.

He put ketchup on his tacos. He wore a mustache better than Tom Selleck, and Ron Swanson. He gave his hand to help the world. He was more than Superman.

Music was his ecstasy, his drug of choice. He could absorb his entire attention into each tone being executed. He was a listener to musical poetry.

He rode a motorcycle and it was his vessel to his chronicles.

“Everybody believes in something. Some people believe in God. I believe in the Angels”.” ~ A Hells Angel.

Les you have always been an Angel. Now you have your wings. May you play fetch with Jackson and embark on an endless highway with the spirits.

I love you.