Going through snail mail, with the expectation just about all of it will be going straight to the trash unopened.

Glad I didn't, there was one hand written letter in the pile from a scarce friend whom is currently doing the mountain man thing in the hills of Panama Central America. Checking in on me.

He's got prostate cancer.

I'll file that one under the worst news I've gotten this month.

He first hits me with all the progress he and wife have made on the property. About 2 pages of updates. And closes the letter with one sentence.

"Yeah man, so I have prostate cancer and [insert wife name here] is getting on my nerves about it.

Knowing him like I do it means it's probably too late and it's bad.