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

Erik Bates | August 19, 2013
[hidden by author request]

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 »

Earth to Cat

What part of get down! are you pretending not to understand? Go »

I Want to Play Sega with Harrison Ford

Behold the bizarre, pop-culture-inspired visions of Brandon Bird: (link) Thanks, Maggie. Go »

Screw the Braden River Post Office

I haven't written in this blog lately, and I hate to resume with a negative topic, but I need to vent and this makes a good outlet. I hate junk mail, as longtime TC users may recall from my many rants on the subject. Honestly, I've considered opening a storefront business that offers PO boxes to the public, and pre-filters your junk mail for you. 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 »

Signs of Summer

The recent Florida wildfires have been a nasty reminder (I drove through one burned-down forest and it was a terrible sight), but if you need any more indication that summer is here, just step outside: It's scorching. Apparently one local still didn't think it was hot enough to take precautions, as evidenced by the recent explosion in the parking lot when we pulled into a strip mall for lunch. An entire trailer had burned into ash with only a skeletal frame and two melted tires remaining. Go »

The Phoenix

This is the last of four weekly blog posts about diagnoses that have completely changed my life since the pandemic started, after The Dragon, The Tiger, and The Serpent. I saved the lightest one for last. Many people who discover later in life that they're neurodivergent have reported spending years aware of the symptoms and signs of their condition without ever considering that the description might apply to them, and when they do finally realize, it's as if a thousand mysteries are solved at once: Things that never made sense are all suddenly explained. Go »