So long, Fred.
I’m a “funeral person”. Okay that sounds creepy. I guess I love the ritual. I love the gathering around the bereaved. I guess since I’ve been the bereaved, I know how much it means to be gathered around.
I love the funeral procession. And how the other drivers just stop when they see you. It always makes me cry. Thank you.
Today, we laid to rest one of the finest men that ever lived. As many said, he and my daddy were cut from the same cloth. They were.
Loving, funny, stern, no-nonsense, full of nonsense.
It was a beautiful day. The service was lovely.
The grave side service was full military with rifles, “Taps” on a bugle and the flag folding.
Fred was many things. Sailor in Korea. Boxer in Madison Square Gardens.
Golden Gloves Boxing coach.
Whittler of amazing walking sticks.
This afternoon, his oldest son told me that he went into his Daddy’s workshop to find a pile of wood shavings, in a circle around his chair where he sat to carve the wood.
He said “I just can’t sweep it up.”
I said “No reason to.”