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 »
Mystery Gift
Thank you, Johnson, whoever you are. I received what I presume is a birthday gift hand-labeled from someone named "Johnson" in Jacksonville, Alabama, postmarked Anniston, Alabama on May 22nd. This means it's someone who knows me well enough to anticipate my birthday and know my home address. Go »Give Me a Little Credit Here
Today's junk-mail pitch from Visa: "Most credit card companies know you as a number. Sean, we know you by name." Go »Humbug 4 Life
This isn't a very popular opinion these days, but it's from the heart: I'm getting terribly fed up with Christmas all around me, and being wished a merry Christmas dozens of different ways every day both verbal and non-verbal. Normally I think political correctness is a joke and the word "offended" is a thoroughly dead horse of a cliché, but I have no other word for how I feel than offended. I'm not Christian and want nothing to do with the holiday of Christmas. Go »The Importance of Being Richard
A conversation drifted today into weird shortening of names, like Robert into Bob and William into Bill (how come Michael doesn't become Bike?), and inevitably Richard into Dick came up. How did that even happen, anyway? Go »Overheard
"Back when I sold real estate, I used to touch up the houses myself. It was a tough market, there wasn't money to pay for it. Anyway, this one house, I have the damnedest time getting the color in the living room right. Go »
Erik Bates | August 19, 2013
[hidden by author request]