14 Years ago today, I was greeted at the door by a mother who could no longer hold in her tears, and the realization that probably the single most influential figure in my development had passed from this plane. Im not a big believer in fate, we either create the cages we beset ourselves to, or even worse albeit more rare, are placed in them by ignorances and negligences of each other...the strings of that web are too many and too gossamer to either account for let alone entirely avoid. If there is any truth to fate, it would lie in the acceptance of that incapacity. I wont go into the absolute insipid chain of medical malpractices that led to his death, not even warranted by the disease he had contracted, but I will say not too many days go by that I dont wonder how much more time hed had on this planet. Memories are simply the fragrance of moments, their source all too often behind a door bolted from the other side for the time being. Bernard Bud Dunnigan was a coal-miner, a mentor, a well-meaning jester, a blue-collar intellectual...and one hell of a grandpa to have. The reliquary of synaptic treasures that have fired in epitaph on this day, as they do every year on this advent, are too spell-bindingly vast to recount. Yet, the flickering room in my mind that plays celluloid of our many adventures is always just a turn of the wrist away...and trust me, youd wanna sit down with a bucket of popcorn and watch a few hours yourself. Alligator snapping turtles, finding unmarked sloughs along the Big Muddy, skulling into places more riddled with serpents than a literary Pharaohs tomb... ...and more fish than an oil tanker could hold in its ballast. Slip silently through the cosmos, Pepaw, but keep a log. Someday, I wanna hear all about it...cause no one told a story like you.
Posted on: Sun, 07 Dec 2014 00:18:02 +0000
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