R.I.P. Harry
by Scott Hardie on August 18, 2013
It's been a melancholy weekend since learning of the passing of a family friend. Fifty years ago, Harry and my mother went on a date. They didn't quite click, but she liked him enough to introduce him to her best friend, and sparks flew between them that soon led to marriage and a lifetime of gratitude to my mother for introducing them. They've been the closest friends I've known my mother to have, and big influences on our lives, instrumental in choices like moving to Sarasota. When my father died while I was still a teen, Harry privately offered to be a surrogate any time I needed a man to talk to, and that spoke to the generation that he came from, where men were manly and role models were critical. Harry was an old-fashioned gentleman; he automatically made chivalrous gestures like holding the chair for ladies to sit down, and he was the kind of man where you could sense that his preferences for drink and smoke had been with him for decades. A stroke late in life forced him to speak less, but his good humor and decency remained strong. I miss him and I mourn him.
Four Replies to R.I.P. Harry
Steve West | August 19, 2013
There are a few men in my life representative of whom you mourn. I know I'll mourn their passing equally hard and will redouble my efforts to spend time with these good men while I still can. Thanks, Harry. Thanks, Scott.
Scott Hardie | August 20, 2013
Since writing this, I learned that two Funeratic members (inactive but well remembered) lost their fathers in the last few days. I am sad for them, and my thoughts turn to making the most of the time we have in life.
Lori Lancaster | August 23, 2013
[hidden by author request]
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
Other Contents Under Pressure
"So this guy is on a dinner date, and he has terrible gas, but he waits because he doesn't want to be embarrassed. When they get back to her house, he can't wait any longer. He desperately asks where her bathroom is, and she says first door on the left. Go »Kissingerian
Another of Fareed Zakaria's perfectly lucid articles today, suggesting the only way out of Iraq: (link) Go »Let the Bodies Hit the Floor
Damn it. After The Sims 2, I'm not ready for another glitch to ruin a game. Elder Scrolls IV has always been a little buggy, tending to lock up my Xbox when it gets too excited for instance. Go »What Other Kitty Cats are as Good as You, the Bestest Kitty Cat in the Whole World, Yes You Are?
• none Go »Blood Lines
A few weeks ago, I dropped a glass bottle of salad dressing on the kitchen floor, making the house smell like vinaigrette for a day. Today, I stepped on the last errant bit of glass hiding in a crack of tile by the corner. Better my foot than the cat's paw, I guess; I don't lick between my toes. Go »
Erik Bates | August 19, 2013
[hidden by author request]