Thursday, August 21, 2008

The Hard Part Of Life.

I am going out of town to a memorial service for a man that was in my life ever since I was dragged out of Oakland California at the tender age of Ten months old.
Leonard was my Granny's back yard neighbor for over Fifty years.

The last of a breed, the guy was a truck driver and had a heart attack on the road clear back when I was in High school.He was told by the medical establishment that he was going to die twenty five years ago, tells ya how much they know.
The man was an Ornery Bastard in Spades,I am going to pay my respects. Although I came by it naturally, I had some excellent fucking examples of how it should be done as ya get older. Environmental shaping and all that crap.
I grew up in a major lumber and logging town, Cowboys wouldn't last long enough to finish a beer.
I am the last of the Old School.
Thank yer lucky stars.

I also have to go to another service next Friday.
My Uncle died last Sunday.

That guy gave the label Ornery Bastard it's own spot in history.
We shared the same Birthday and a penchant fer likker too.

Part of the fun of living is learning how to deal with the dying and the dead.
It ain't a bit of fun and the older ya get, the more ya get to practice.

12 comments:

  1. Ya it sucks when you lose friends and relatives. I've lost a good chunk of my family many good friends and a few co workers. So let me leave you with this thought from Dana of Life is Good.

    When I go I want to go in my sleep just like grandpa and not screaming like the rest of the people in the car did.

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  2. I have always particularly liked that joke too.

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  3. My condolences, Busted. It's good that you have lots of memories of your friend. Hold onto them.

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  4. Sorry Busted but in the end even though it's sad you will have more laughs than tears.

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  5. My sympathies. I am beginning that practice over the last ten years, and yes, it sucks like a Hoover on steroids and crack.

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  6. To paraphrase Steve Goodman:

    He's got season's tickets to watch the Angels play

    It's you, the living, who are stuck here with the blowholes,

    so it's him that feels sorry for us.

    My epitaph will read: Well, nobody's fuckin' with him anymore.

    So if there is something to come after, he's feeling much better now.
    A Toast to his ornery bastard ass

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  7. Condolences, pal.

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  8. I'm sorry for you losses.

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  9. My condolences, Busted. We need more ornery bastards and less pasty-faced pod-peeling gits.

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  10. Sorry, dude. A couple weeks ago I went to the funeral of the husband of an old flame. He dropped dead while jogging, and left behind his wife and two sons, family members, and friends. Makes you realize there ain't no fucking meaning to life except what we give it.

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  11. I didn't know them, but you look to be doing a good job of carrying on their legacy.

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