Beau attempted to do something with his classics degree at first. He subbed and then taught as a regular faculty member in a private K-8 school. He tried to start ten- and eleven-year olds on Latin. He beguiled kids with myths. He made next to no money and after Annika become pregnant in 1975 Beau took a job at Andreini & Company. With his personality he actually outsold Steve. They both did well.

Beau was practically a stand-up comic by then. He performed jokes more than told them, constructed shaggy dog tales (don’t cry over milled spilk), and did some wicked impersonations. His practical jokes were seldom executed but ever well-conceived, and almost always played on Steve. Who actually didn’t mind them. Steve was so consistently into philandering that he needed some tactical support from Beau – he was nothing if he wasn’t grateful for that – and anyway, the big jokes always turned out to Steve’s advantage.

There was the time Beau put rocks in both back hubcaps of Steve’s T-bird. Maybe it wasn’t the most original joke but it worked. It scared the pants off Steve, who loved the car and panicked at the sound those rocks made when he started to drive away from work that March day. And it’s true that the rocks actually damaged the insides of the hubcaps, but Steve had extras at home. The thing was that the noise made Steve stop the car just outside the fenced parking lot. Just in time to miss being hit by an escaping slab of concrete that was being hoisted up to the building which was under construction next door. The freak accident never would have happened except that the crew was under pressure to complete the job. They were too tired to be trying that maneuver; the slab slipped and fell forty feet to smash on the asphalt below. If Steve hadn’t stopped, the concrete would have nailed him.

It was several years before Beau pulled another one, but his next idea was original and brilliant. Both of them wore eyeglasses then, but Steve was acting obnoxiously cocky about the fact that he didn’t yet need bifocals. He was also tiresome in the way he appreciated the design of his new Dior frames. He was accustomed to looking good, and he took care as he aged to use what the designers and cosmeticians offered. It was his practice to set his expensive glasses on his desk most of the time; Andreini & Co. employed several sweethearts and Steve always tried to look his best for them. One day when he left his glasses behind Beau borrowed them. Working carefully with some transparent tape and an Exacto blade, he applied thin strips of tape to the lenses in such a way that the wearer would immediately assume both lenses had shattered. He replaced the altered glasses on Steve’s desk and then loitered around to witness the reaction.

Steve had never outgrown an impulsive temper. As soon as he put his glasses on his face he saw the crack-like lines; snatching them off he hurled them to the floor in exasperation. Which action did break them. Beau roared his laughing delight. Steve glared, paused, grunted, paused, giggled, paused, and guffawed. “I deserve it,” he concluded. “I really do it to myself, don’t I?”

The joke had two interesting effects. It made Steve focus on his old temper problem and begin to deal with it. He’d had such a generally successful life that his temper hadn’t often hurt him, but it took a toll on his marriage. Elena went with him for counseling and the process did help their relationship. Of more interest to him, it improved his golf game. He and Beau hit the links before Steve’s replacement glasses arrived, so he couldn’t see well to putt, and under that disadvantage he began to understand the focusing advice that Beau had been giving him all those years. Without his eyeglasses Steve had the best putting of his life. He made jokes about “using the force.” He thanked Beau.

A year ago Beau came up with what may have been his best one. He and Steve never used caddies. Their memories of golfer-mocking were too vivid for them to put themselves in that role. They didn’t use carts either. They wanted the exercise of walking the course and carrying their own clubs.

Beau began adding weight to Steve’s bag. He was subtle about it. They always played at least two days a week, and Beau added a rock only every other time. Within a couple of weeks Steve was commenting. Observing that he must be out of shape. Resolving to work out more. By the end of two months Beau gave the joke a rest but Steve joined a gym. He hired a personal trainer and met with him three times a week. He found the place to be a treasure trove of females and their presence inspired him to exertion.

Steve never caught on to the joke but Beau told him about it four months later. By then Beau had seen the improvement in Steve’s shape and attitude and joined him at the gym. Both of them benefitted, of course. But when Steve had his heart attack last month the doctors got their first close look at his system. They said the training saved his life. No one had any idea until then about the extent of his heart disease.

Steve’s going to be fine. As fine as anyone fifty and growing older. He sailed through the quadruple bypass. But he and Beau both know that if it hadn’t been for that sneak weight-training and consequent gym work, Steve wouldn’t be alive now to record this.