Gus Kelly was born on May 19, 1934; he has been a friend for 60 years. He arrived in our neighborhood when he was nine, a year after his mother died. His dad moved Gus and his three brothers and a sister into his dad's sister's house-raising a family alone was too much for Gus' father.

Gus' aunt lived a couple of blocks from our house. In those days, when I wanted Gus to come out and play I'd go to his house and yell, "Hey Gus, Gus, Gus." Then his aunt would come to the door and scold me: "His name is Charles, not Gus." But to the guys in the old neighborhood he will always be Gus.

When we were maybe 11 we were playing basketball at Morrill playground and being rough on a kid named Johnny Latear. We started shoving Johnny around until one of the big kids broke it up-two kids against one just wasn't fair. The big dog decided that if we were going to fight Johnny we should do it one at a time.

A coin flip decided Gus would box him with bare fists. I would wrestle him. Latear was a lefty and before Gus even got his dukes up Johnny smacked him with a fist in the eye-it was a bloody scene. End of round one. Now it was my turn, and seven seconds after we started Latear picks me up and slams me to the ground. End of round two. After that, nobody ever messed with Johnny Latear. A year later, Gus had an operation on his eye.

Gus and I went to grammar and high school together. He was a good basketball player. In his senior year his team won the city championship and he got a basketball scholarship to a small college in Illinois, even though he was only 5 feet 8 inches tall. After college he worked his way through medical school and by the time he started private practice in Cairo, Ill., he still looked like he was 16. Unfortunately, a short 16-year-old in a white coat, with a stethoscope, doesn't hack it with most patients. So Gus went back to school and became a pathologist, moved to Peoria, Ill., got

married and had two children.

A decade ago Gus, retired and single again, bought a farm with the intention of becoming an organic farmer. When I asked him how it was going he explained it looked like it was going to be too much work. And besides, he was getting used to his afternoon naps. Now he has a new profession as a "Texas Hold-Em" poker player. He plays several times a week at the riverboat casinos in the Midwest and makes an annual jaunt to Vegas. Gus tells me playing poker is more fun than doctoring and there's no malpractice insurance. Life is beautiful indeed.

When Frank isn't reminiscing about Gus, Chubby, Oats, Gootch, Chicken Legs and the other guys from the old neighborhood, he can be reached at fburge@cmp.com.

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