R.I.P. Pam
by Scott Hardie on January 14, 2022
Pam was a co-worker from the 2000s who recently passed away. Kelly worked with her much more closely than I did, sharing a cubicle space with her for years and getting to know her very well, though I had plenty of conversations with her too. She was always ready with a compliment or a joke or a homemade treat, and she was a source of light in a job that could be quite a grind some days. The group photos that I have left from that company always showed her smiling and laughing. You don't always appreciate the people who bring happiness into your life until you feel their absence, and it's a shame. She adored her children and grandchildren, and I know how much they miss her now. I do too.
Three Replies to R.I.P. Pam
Scott Hardie | January 14, 2022
Yes, all true and well said. Thanks! My father's been gone 25 years this week, but I still see particular scenes from old movies and remember how much they amused him. I appreciate that I got a chance to know Pam, and to be inspired to be a light for other people like she was.
Evie Totty | January 14, 2022
I don't really have more to add other than I'm sorry for your loss. I'm glad that your memories of her are good ones :)
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 »
Eschew Obfuscation
For any FIN players wondering where in the hell the game is: I used my little free time over last weekend writing a mini-post – three whopping paragraphs – and at the end of the weekend I just couldn't bear to publish it so short. (The title of this post was the planned title of that post.) I have now rearranged my social so that weekends are more free, and one thing I plan to do with the time is resume writing FIN, starting this weekend by expanding my three paragraphs into more like three pages. Go »Even When I Was a Child, I Was Hated by Skeletons
We watched The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra again last night. If you haven't seen it, and you have a place in your heart for a pretty good spoof of campy D-grade sci-fi movies from the 1950s, rent it. A few people have been turned off by its slow pace, but I have yet to watch it with someone who hasn't at least found a few things to chuckle at. Go »Grousing About the Mouse
Kelly and I still have our annual passes to Disney World, but we've had more trouble going recently because of disabilities that slow us down. A friend suggested joining a busy Facebook group for Disney World fans like us who struggle with disabilities and share advice with each other. I clicked the button to join, and up popped a 4-question form asking questions that are required for membership. Go »Is That a George Lucas Character?
Matthew Preston: "If making up words for directions is wrong, I don't want to be fludoo." Go »The Revised Revised Revised Story
Last spring, This Modern World ran a great parody charting the decline of civil liberties in recent years, after the then-shocking revelation that the government was building a database of every call made in the country: (link) I was reminded of that over the weekend as the latest shocking revelation came out, that the FBI has vastly abused its new ability to request confidential information in the interest of national security (link), almost as if it was the next panel in the strip. Except I'm not laughing. Oh, what I'd have given to be the reporter at Alberto Gonzales's press conference this morning. Go »
Steve West | January 14, 2022
Death is a natural part of the life cycle. Although true, it doesn't make it any easier to cope, even intellectually. Time passes and the pain ebbs but it never really disappears. Even happy memories threaten tears. "This was one of my Mom's favorite movies", I'll say while reaching for a tissue. Your grief cannot be my own, but I can appreciate what that sadness feels like. It saddens me that such a lovely person is no longer here and she will not be easily replaced. There are only so many like her in the first place. Take comfort that you were privileged to know her. Remember her kindness and use her memory to improve yourself, trying to mimic her best qualities; something we should probably do before someone passes. Be well, my friend.