Posted by on Oct 3, 2015 | 8 comments

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A very young piper

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A very young soldier

Mama’s brother died two nights ago in Kerrville after a long illness associated with dementia. He was in great pain, could not breathe, and all of us in the family feel that he is in a much better place now. Lengthy illnesses are terribly sad for everyone, but especially for mama’s sister-in-law who was at his side in the nursing home every morning for breakfast and then again at lunch, bringing Mexican food and sushi and barbeque to his table of two other friends whenever possible.

Then he could not swallow well and then he could not breathe well and everything progressed from there.

He had a brilliant memory and could recount hundreds of moments in history, with dates, not to mention all the stanzas to esoteric marching songs long forgotten. He played piano and devastated his teacher when he changed to bagpipes, which requires straight fingers. He played with the Calgary Highlanders at 16, the age at which he also entered Rice university to mark time until he could be admitted to West Point at 18.

He loved good food, he cooked, he gardened, he read everything and remembered it all, word for word (unlike me, mama says), he was big-hearted and generous to a fault. When mama was going to an important event in Houston and hadn’t brought a purse with her that went with her outfit, he said he would pick something up at the mall. She said to find anything cheap and white as she would not use it much afterwards and he returned home to their mother’s house with a Neiman Marcus bag containing a Ferragamo clutch, saying, “Will this do?” Oh, yes, it will do, mama said, practically in tears over his thoughtfulness.

So much to say about an extraordinary individual, a Viet Nam career colonel who retired to Monterey and then Texas hill country after a long service to make and paint exquisite lead soldiers with his own molds taken from figures that could not be found any longer. To catalogue his soldier collection would take months, perhaps years. To catalogue his talents, his kindnesses to others, would take an eternity.

Mama is trying to work with all of this sadness, but she and papa are glad he is not suffering. This song is for him.

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