On June 16, 1970, Brian Piccolo died. Whenever I hear or see his name I feel a connection to him. No, I didn't know him. I don't think I ever even saw him play football on TV. Am I crazy? Maybe, but I don't care.
Brian Piccolo holds a place in the hearts of my entire family. Our dog, a beautiful German Shepherd, was named after him. Piccolo did not live with us long, but he quickly wedged himself into our lives and, with barely two years knowing him, stories are told as if he were with us for decades.
Mom and Dad bought this beautiful puppy, for our family at the time, for a pretty penny. We had had him for weeks and still had not settled on a name. One day, after (I don't want to say nagging but...) nagging from Mom, "Dear, we have to name the dog..." Dad, on his way out the door, apparently had had enough talk on the subject said, "I don't care what you name the dog. Heck (he may have said another word, but it will always be heck in my memory), you can name him Piccolo for all I care!" and he shut the door behind him.
Not only did Dad name Piccolo but he started a tradition. Each dog who has come to live in our house has been named after, no, not a sports star, a musical instrument. Our next dog, a border collie, was named Mandy...you know, short for Mandolin!
Rest in peace Brian and Piccolo.