We had the best time! I can say this man right here had such a caring heart I'm gonna miss are Wednesday together and you telling me chris how bout a chicken dinner and I'll reply why not and we get that Wednesday special

I miss you dear friend

Some of my fondest memories of Dad are back when I was around 8 or 10 years old. I remember that ou house phone was used for his heating company too. Often times during the winter people would call because their furnace was not working. Dad always went out to get them some heat no matter what time it was. He often took me along with him to “help”—which consisted of holding the flashlight for him. Looking back on it—-it was probably just to spend some time with me since he had to work late! He always got them some heat before we went home and they were times I will never forget!

The stories about Curtis have been bringing back memories for me too. Papaw always had a stash of bread for us to feed the ducks, although God help them or the seagulls if they loitered on his boat dock. I remember riding in his truck, and how he would bump our knees with the gear shift if you happened to be in that middle seat. Watching game shows in his trailer. Going for pontoon rides with our toes in the water off the front of the boat. Watching the sunset over the lake. And of course the fish fry - nobody makes fried fish and potatoes like Papaw. <3

When I close my eyes, I can remember back to when I was a teenager and used to spend my summers at Curtis with Papaw and Steve.  I'm sitting in the chair on the corner with the ottoman, usually with a book on my lap.  Steve is sitting on the corner of the couch on his blanket that Granny Smith made once upon a time going through one of his many car magazines that he loved.  Papaw is sitting on the other corner of the couch, sometimes with a book, other times with a letter or something else he was working on.  A Braves game is on the TV and the waves from the lake are gently crashing against the shore.  We're watching the game, chatting about our books, and just enjoying spending time with each other.  I learned so much from him and words can't do justice to how much I will miss him.  I will always treasure these memories and I'm so happy that he got to meet Kaylee and be involved in her life.

Dara, I remember your dad telling me about blowing a fuse with his Christmas lights. I'll add to your story that he said one Christmas it caused many of your neighbors electricity to go out as well! Good thing wiring is better so many decades later. I'm laughing at the memory as I write this. Clark Shock. :)

There's not much to say that hasn't already been said but I will add this short bit. Ed was a good friend from whom I learned a lot about life. I found him to be much more open minded for a guy his age and of his generation than I would have expected. Yup, he had his strong views and opinions, that's for sure. But we always found common ground in our conversations. He wanted the best for his kids and worked hard to make sure they had good lives. He missed his wife, Doris, dearly and talked about her a lot. He was smart - book smart and street smart. He liked a good bargin but also knew how to give generously. He loved his Dayton Flyers (and the Cleveland Browns as long as they won a few now and then). He ALWAYS had a kind word for the staff who cared for him at the VA. I've never heard so many "thank you"s for the simple things they did for him. 

He told me on one of our last visits that he just wished for peace in the world...whether it was as far away as Ukraine or as close by as family. 

I keep thinking I'm going to head up north to see him again and then I have to catch myself...and remember, that's he's right here with me. Thanks for making my life better by being in it, Ed. 

Papaw used to sing this song to us and then to our babies - must have been one of his favorites. The lyrics seem fitting here

To those who knew him, Ed's thriftiness was legendary. I remember a time I spent with him at the lake. It was early in our relationship, just a year or two after I married his daughter. He owned a red motor boat, and he took me out on the lake to try our luck with the walleyes. There was a small stash of beer on board, and Ed offered me one. I reached for a can and started to open it. Just as I pulled the tab he said, "yeah, I've had a case of that in my garage for the last seven years; thought I'd bring it up here." As he uttered those words I opened the beer and was rewarded not with a rush of compressed air but with a dull click. Not wanting to offend the hospitality of my new father-in-law, I bravely took a sip. Despite the label it was not, in fact, Milwaukee's Best. I finished the can, but if I'm being honest, the fish enjoyed the lion's share.

I got a laugh from Ed when I told him that story a while back. But I'm a little worried about what ever happened to those remaining cans.

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side, spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast, hull and spar as she was when she left my side. And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me -- not in her. And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone," there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

And that is dying...