Friday, January 8, 2016

I should have seen it coming

Mr Pepper came into coffee yesterday carrying a couple of boxes of bullets.

"These are odd-balls.  Anybody want them?"

I asked him what was up.

"I just gave away all of my guns.  Gave most of them to grand-kids..  These bullets don't belong to any of them."


I remember crying the day my grandfather gave me his tool box.  I realized he was mortal.  That hurt.  Him giving away his tools was a little bit of him dying, like turning off lights before leaving the house for vacation.  Drinking coffee with a bunch of old coots enlightens a fellow.  Divesting baggage is simply one of those things that thoughtful men do.  It is a bit like shucking off clothes before skinny-dipping.

Mr Pepper's guns.  Mr Pepper's life.  Mr Pepper's own darned business what he does with them.

A bit later Mr Pepper commented that one of our other regular members (who was not there a the time) was "slipping".  Asked to elaborate, Mr Pepper said that the forgetful fellow had started writing everything down, like he knew he was becoming more forgetful.  I think the other guy is still very sharp...Mr Pepper might have been projecting...or maybe he is hyper-sensitive because that is something he fears will happen to him.

Mr Pepper is adverse to conflict.  I think he handed out his firearms so each family member would get "the right one."  He wanted to do that while his mind is still sharp.  Also, the guns are about the last thing he had with any market value.  There will be no estate to fight over when he is gone.

He also mentioned that he wanted to beat Obama's executive order.  He did not want to see his grandkids shorted because of some technicality that might pop up.

As we were breaking up for the day, Mr Pepper wondered if there was any way he could be buried next to his dog on the back of the old farm.  "He was a damned good dog!"  He said it in a simple conversational manner.  It was clearly a matter he had been thinking about.

I know many people who would be better served spending the time between slipping their mortal coil and The Resurrection next to a faithful dog than sleeping between their kin.  I told him that if he got cremated I would make sure the ashes ended up anywhere he wanted (except Alaska, that is just too far away).  I just hope they don't build a Walmart over his dog before he passes away. 

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