Tim Grobaty: Requiem for Curby the bartender  REQUIEM FOR A
BARTENDER: Our friend Curby sold his beloved Galaxy 500
convertible on Tuesday. He gave the money to his landlord to pay
past-due rent and then went off and shot himself.  We can't
recall, over the 20 or so years we've known Curby, a time when
he wasn't troubled. Nor can we recall a time over that span when
he wasn't cheerful or a joy to be around.  "Curby" wasn't his
real name, it's a nickname based on his difficulty navigating
the sudden change in roadside altitude when he was in his cups.
But it's the only name he went by, and it's all we're going to
remember him by.  He was born as a bartender - a couple jiggers
therapist, a couple jiggers hilarity and the rest all heart.
Seeing Curby anywhere outside a bar was like seeing your
schoolteacher at the supermarket. It just didn't look right. And
looking every bit as wrong was seeing him in anything other than
a gaudy Elvis shirt (as opposed to a staid, bland Elvis shirt),
or a blinding Hawaiian numb