by von
"I’m sorry, dear, I’ve only got a moment to talk. Trial tomorrow."
"Somthing’s happened."
"What is it? I’ve got a ton of things to do. Can it wait? I’m really swamped."
"Jeff, your Uncle Jim is dead."
"What? What the hell are you talking about?"
And that’s what happenned. With me in Orlando. And my wife in Indiana with my father when he received the news. And the rest of the family in Worcester and Boston and God-knows where else. Including Jim. Who loved life. Who loved beer, which he sometimes brewed. Who was planning to live in my grandmother’s cabin on the coast of Maine when he retired (soon). Who could crack like Robin Williams with a couple drinks in him. Who could sit down and shoot the shit about most any kind of shit you’d want to shoot. Who, on a rocky beach in Maine this August, rolled up his pantslegs and waded out into the cold ocean with my nephew and scattered his mother’s ashes into the sea. My grandmother, who I had watched slowly go into the dark. While I sat on a rock with my wife and my new son. And watched. And nearly cried. Because nearly cry is all that I have ever done since I was a child. About the important things, at least.
So now my dad is now missing a mother and brother too. And my niece (just married) and nephew (about to be married) are without a father. And my aunt was with him when it happened, a heart attack (probably), gasping and dead before the ambulance came. And me still in Orlando. God damn it all. God damn it all. God damn you and everyone else. It ain’t fucking fair. Fucking shit. Fuck you. Fuck it all.
And the trial continues, as it has for the last five weeks.
My condolences von.
There have been too many condolences the last year. I’d rather everyone have a drink — or, if you don’t drink, buy someone else one.
in that case, *cheers*
Life is not fair. Hang in, Von. Tip of the Old Style to you.
I’m having a drink, von. Let me know if you’d like to have one in person, if you’re still in Orlando. If not, I’m having one with you in spirit.
I used to be bulletproof, too.
Clos du Bois Chardonnay, for me, but I’ll switch to Scotch if needed.
My condolences for your loss, von. That sucks.
von: I’m so sorry. I’ll have a drink tomorrow, when the teaching week is over, and think of you and yours.
I’m so sorry von. I’ll include our uncle in our saturday toasting ritual–red wine, not beer, if that’s ok.
von, I’m so sorry.
Can’t you ask for a long recess? a continuance? At least long enough to go to the funeral?
Sorry von. Life is not only not fair, sometimes contra Lou Reed, it isn’t even good.
I’m sorry, Von.
I have three Mooseheads left tonight. One for your uncle, one for your grandmother, and one for you.
I hate the entire concept of death.
I was planning on having a few drinks tomorrow; think I’ll get tanked instead.
Yeah, I know. That’s hard.
How about condolences and a drink?
So sorry, von: what an evil chance to find you away from home and family at a terrible time like this. Hard.
Slarti:
Do you want to grab a late lunch on Saturday? I have work in the morning and a flight up north Saturday night, but am available at your convenience downtown Saturday during the day.
It was Newcastle Brown Ale for me tonight, but I’ve already had three (at Drinking Liberally), so I’ll just have to retroactively dedicate them to you and yours, von. I’m sorry for your loss.
It’s not going to work that way, Casey.
Thanks for the condolences (and drinks), all. It just felt good to write it out. I appreciate your indulgences.
So sorry, Von. Hang in. Tough stuff to start out with, and then to not be able to get away from trial is just not at all right.
Von,
Don’t know that it helps much, but while I was busy drinking away the sorrows of trying to hold onto the reigns of one of the few fraternities left with a very solid commitment to Brotherhood and principles above all else, I had an extra couple for you.
And for anyone who watches the news too closely, yes that was a brother and a friend who blew himself up last year. And he happened to be about the furthest one could be from the definition of the term “Radical Islam”.
Too much wine. Must post less.
As one who has lost too many family members, I’m sorry Von. The bad will pass and the good will remain.
And in an other unjust area that others might help out in, I think that if we all chip in, we can bring some relief to Gary Farber.
von,
It isn’t fair. It just isn’t.
Godspeed Uncle Jim, and be well von.
Cheers,
Mac
I’m sorry, Von. I haven’t been drinking lately, for various reasons, but I’ll lift a glass of wine tonight to you and yours.
“If you don’t drink, buy someone else one.” We t-totalers don’t do that either, it’s part of what it’s all about. But you have my condolences.
Merry meet, merry part and merry meet again, and in the time between I’ll raise a glass to thee.
Putting the kids to bed early to share a drink with my wife and chat, something that often gets overlooked in the hustle of everyday stuff.
Von:
I think that can work. I’ll see if I can’t find an old email that has your address on it, and contact you directly.
Saturdays are normally kind of bad for me, this being football season, but it’s a bye week for the gators.
That sucks so awfully, Von. I’ll down a shot and beer for your uncle here. Feel free to punch opposing counsel if it helps. You have my permission.
I’m very sorry for your loss.
So sorry to hear this happened to you.
I’ll have a drink and toast your uncle tonight.
since i’m all the way across the country, condolences and shared distance drinking are all i can offer.
but as a fellow member of the ObWi bar, when i’m at one tonight i’ll toast your family.
I hope that your streak of loss has come to an end. Warm thoughts to you.
I’m drinking a nice chardonnay in honor of all beloved and unexpected deaths.
seize the day, make plans for tomorrow, celebrate tonight.
Man, von, it really sucks that we only hear from you when you have terrible news to share.
Given this regrettable pattern you’ve established, I can only convey my wishes that we not hear from you again for a long, long time. (Alternatively, you could break the pattern.)
Steve:
You’re right. I’ll have better news next time. Thanks for the condolences, all. I appreciate it.
We’ll look forward to that next time, von. For now, I’m lifting a glass of sherry to your uncle’s memory.
My deepest condolences; loss is never easy, but sudden loss is a huge blow exactly because there’s no way to prepare. Fourteen years ago, my father died suddenly on the exact same date as your uncle.
By the way, Mac and Ed (and not to minimize the good wishes of others, undeserved by the undersigned): Thanks for the good wishes. I do miss those early days (for me, at least) at Tacitus. It was nice to be attacked from the right, as Macallan, TtWD, Navy D, and Malynn so often did. It was a humbling experience — at some points. On others, I still cleave to my claim of being mosting inerrent (in political matters, at least).
And Ed: Next time I’m in NYC, I owe you a beer and a shot.
Best to all; even the teetolers. (My one prejudice is against the Vodka drinkers, as my grandmother — of the age in which it was possible to be lefter than left and still staunchly anticommunist — taught me.)
(The fights I miss having with her. The fights, too, I will miss having with Uncle Jim. Dammit all.)
Nell:
My very best wishes for that sad day. I wish neither you nor I had it in common (though I don’t compare my loss to yours, not at all.)
Fourteen years ago, my father died suddenly on the exact same date as your uncle.
My father also died fourteen years ago, on October 5th.
Drinking a margarita last night in a bar in a desert far from home and family, I thought about writing a poem on death and distance and birth and light for you, but I guess what you need is your family and time. Really sorry about your loss.
I’m sorry about your loss. I can’t imagine what it’s like.
Von – heading to Chicago this weekend. Will gather with the usual suspects and drink some Makers to you and yours.
Best wishes.
Thanks, Toby.