I’m sad to report that my good friend Larry Webster lost his battle with cancer early Saturday morning. I want to thank all of you for your prayers during the first bout–he had some precious extra time with wife Vicki and sons, Kyle and Brent, and that was a profound blessing. It was inspiring to see the way his friends and extended family stepped up and helped to carry a great many physical and emotional burdens. I knew, but didn’t mention it on the blog, because there are few things more personal and private than the process of dying.
Larry was a talented country western singer and guitar player, a chiropractor, and a long-haul truck driver. He was funny and smart, and if there was a job to be done–any kind of job–he pushed up his sleeves and went to work. Once, with my cousin Steve, he spent three hours under my kitchen sink, repairing a pipe and installing a faucet. He and Vicki came all the way from Washington State to move my mother into her first apartment in Scottsdale, and helped enormously with the move from Arizona, too.
Larry was a true cowboy, the real deal, and that’s the highest compliment I can pay him.
He was a great Johnny Cash fan and sorry he never got to meet him. I’ll bet he’s met him now. They’re probably sitting around strumming guitars, singing “I Walk the Line.”
Larry certainly walked the line.
