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Friday, July 25, 2014

The End of an Era....

My uncle died Sunday, or perhaps it was Saturday night.
He had been picking up apples in his back yard. He was in his slippers. There was a bucket of apples at his feet.
He sat down in the porch swing and looked like he decided to take a nap.
He was 87 years old.
My aunt couldn't get him to wake up when she found him Sunday Morning. Looked like she got him a comforter just in case he was just sleeping.

So, who will tell me to answer my phone, not track mud in front of the shop, tell me not to borrow money for any foolhardy ventures, not smoke chronic, or use regional idioms, like exclaiming: "What in the Sam Hill is going on here?!"
In a month will we have turned the store into a pot dispensary and will we all be sitting around eating Doritos  and listening to Peter Tosh surrounded by misplaced tools and mud from the irrigation tractors?
Will someone use real floor dry instead of 20 year old sawdust out of dad's basement?
Will I have borrowed $5 million to start an industrial hemp facility?
Time will tell...
One thing I know, I am not the man my father was, nor my uncle.
Perhaps, I will have to grow up now.

11 comments:

  1. Probably one of the greatest compliments we can pay is to say we are not the man our father was.

    May your children say that about you.

    Grace and peace.

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    Replies
    1. That statement could go both ways, a positive or negative reference.

      Delete
  2. Sorry to hear of the loss of your Uncle Budde, none of us are the men our fathers/uncles, grandfathers were, or at least some days it feels like that. I lost my last uncle 12 years ago right about this time.

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  3. The place won't be the same without Uncle Harold.

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  4. It's always hard to see the people we look up to pass on. You'll move on, but things will be very different. Please accept my condolences.

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  5. I've lost the skill to submit posts. Unfortunately what I said and lost was more thoughtful than this one. I'm very sorry for you loss. Staring at the photo, thinking of leaving while picking apples and your comment about not being the man he was creates a great image. Perhaps he sat after picking apples and thought of his family, thought well of them and considered his work here done...and well handed off.

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  6. It is a great regret to me that missing our annual trip to the coast last year means no more of Uncle Ted's wit and tales.
    Many a farmer would choose such a gentle departure, and with a harvest at his feet,
    Likely every generation feels a twinge of suspicion that they are not of the same mettle as their fathers.

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  7. I'm very sorry for your loss. Losing the elder generation is never easy, but I hope I'm blessed to be of sound mind and body until the end like your uncle was. I hope there's no crunchy floor dry in heaven.

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