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My grandfather passed last week. He had a good life and went quietly at 94-years-of-age. I can only hope that I have such a long life and leave so many people with fond memories. Tomorrow is the funeral and I said I’d like to say a few words… but now that it’s crunch time I’m coming up empty. Lots of memories and fond thoughts, but nothing that really formats itself nicely into a memorial. I’m half tempted to just go from the hip and see what comes out; but I have a tendency to ramble and I’m not the only one speaking so I don’t want to ramble on. I need something short, sweet, and ideally, something that’ll make folks cry. Making folks cry at a funeral usually means you’ve hit your mark.

So I’ve come up with some of my most vivid memories surrounding him and admittedly this is a purely personal list. Now all I’ve got to do is weave this into something good.

• Slingshots made out of tree branches and bicycle tire tubes
• Fishing, catching fish, turtles, ducks, and even one time my cousin Jim
• Taught me how to ride a bike and how to maintain that same bike and all the bikes that came afterward
• Handy with a wrench or a hammer
• Church going, honorable, honest, admirable
• Corn and strawberries right out of the garden
• Pipe smoke in the evening
• Sleeping in his chair while the baseball game was on
• Waking up with the sun

I’ll work on it a bit more and whatever I come up with I’ll post later.

The weekend was long, this recap, not so much.

Kirra, who’s moved back with us, went away for the weekend. I don’t know what she did or where she went… does it really matter… probably not, hell, she’s 21. She can do what she wants.

Tasha and I didn’t do much. We went and saw Prince of Persia on Saturday. Not a great movie, but it was what it was, an action movie based on a video game. And I think for that it did what it set out to do pretty well. Lots of jumping around. Lots of sword fighting. Lots of CGI. It’s not going to win any awards, but I thought it captured the game nicely. I’d see the next one, if the make another.

Sunday, Tasha’s friend Jen came over and visited for a bit.

We had some leisure time and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Today is Memorial day and it’s a big deal. It’s a day where we as a nation, take a moment and thank the men and women who’ve given everything for our country.

It’s easy for the true meaning of this day to get lost in the excitement of Summer starting and cookouts and picnics. But please don’t lose sight of the day’s real significance. Most of the things we’ll enjoy today, we’re enjoying because those before us made selfless sacrifices.

On Memorial Day, I’m including some words by Father Dennis Edward O’Brien below. It’s really more appropriate to Veterans day and while Memorial Day is different as it’s honoring those who gave their lives, the big picture idea is the same.

If you know a veteran or a family member of a veteran, take thirty seconds and say “thanks”. It’ll go a long ways. Trust me. To all my readers and their families who are honored today, I salute you and say “Thank You.”

Happy Memorial Day.

–Ronn McCarrick

WHAT IS A VET?

Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg – or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul’s ally forged in the refinery of adversity. Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can’t tell a vet just by looking.

What is a vet?

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn’t run out of fuel.

He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

She or he is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.

He is the POW who went away one person and came back another. Or didn’t come back AT ALL.

He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other’s backs.

He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.

He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.

He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean’s sunless deep.

He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket palsied now and aggravatingly slow who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being, a person who offered some of his life’s most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That’s all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.

Two little words that mean a lot, “THANK YOU.”

“It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who has given us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier, who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.”

–Father Dennis Edward O’Brien, USMC

NICHOLS, DONALD; age 94; of Altoona, FL; passed away peacefully May 26, 2010;

born in Conway, Arkansas, he raised his family in the Pontiac and Avon Township, MI area before moving to Florida.

Husband of the late Thelma; father of Therman (Judy), David, Shirley (Larry) Anderson and Glen (Judy) Nichols; cherished grandfather of eight and great grandfather of six; brother of the late Geneva Barnard and Vaughtie Nichols.

Mr. Nichols retired in 1972 from GM with 36 yrs. of service, a member of the First Baptist Church of Lady Lake, FL and former member of Rochester Hills Baptist Church.

He enjoyed gardening, bowling, fishing, family gatherings and his churches.

Funeral Service 2 p.m. Thursday at Rochester Hills Baptist Church, 3300 S. Livernois Rd., Rochester Hills with Visitation at the church 12:30 p.m. until time of service.

Memorial contributions to Cornerstone Hospice Foundation of Lake & Sumter County, 2445 Lane Park Road, Tavares, FL 32778 would be appreciated; arrangements entrusted to Pixley Funeral Home, Rochester. Please leave condolences at www.pixleyfuneralrochester.com

Stress. Stress. Stress. So much fun. Best part is, I don’t know what I’m stressed over.

I’m wondering, do you think anybody out there has voting for American Idol on their bucket list?

changed my genre up and listened to Strega by Andrew Vachss, then tried to listen to My Big Fat Paranormal Wedding but gave up on it.

sitting at the Village Inn and it’s as if every smoker in the place is trying to make a point tonight. Fuckers.

Went and saw Hal Sparks at Dr. Grins tonight with Tasha and Kirra… and they’re still going strong.

finished listening to Dreamfever, too bad Karen Marie Moning won’t be putting the next, last book in the series out until December.

Took the day off to try and purge myself of the gout