He flies through the air
with the greatest of ease.
Bogan Frese. Now there's a name for you. Everyone just called him "Bo". There was only one Bo, so no other identifier was necessary.
Bo was a gymnast, a life-long gymnast. A generation of young athletes has been exposed to his talent and easy-going nature. He was among the best the gym had ever seen. If there was a big trick being thrown, chances are it was Bo in the air. Spectators all over the nation marveled at Bo's diving exhibitions at state fairs during the summer months. This past year, crowds in Europe were also delighted by Bo's trampoline and entertainment skills. Yes, Bo was world-class.
Yesterday, Bo took to the air for the last time. A slight miscalculation resulted in a tragic accident. Bo died doing what he loved best, in the place he loved best, among the people he loved best.
Many a Wednesday night I would head for the gym to do Russian Swing with Bo and the gang. My tenant would often tease me as I left the house about my regular rendezvous with Bo. "You're going to see your beau, aren't you," she would quip. "You love your beau, don't you."
Hell yeah. Everybody loved Bo.
