This morning I got a phone call from my mom…and I can
usually tell from her tone whether it’s going to be good or bad news. I knew instantly something was wrong
…so I took a deep breath and waited for whatever it was she was about to tell
me.
“Uncle Ollie passed this morning….”
Death is inevitable, but it something I don’t think about on
a regular basis…it’s a pretty depressing topic…but every time someone I know
passes …I’m forced to focus on it.
To cope or help with the grief … I usually pick one great
memory of that person and replay that moment over and over again in my head.
Most of the time I’ll smile and chuckle to myself….
Uncle Ollie owned acres of land, which he farmed ever since
I can remember. With his own two hands he worked that field for decades,
selling what he grew. Farming was his life, agriculture was his passion and
hard work was his motto.
During the summer, sometimes I’d go and help work the
field…my contributions were small, but it was fun hanging out with my cousins
and riding around in trucks all day.
(I’m laughing already) This is a memory that I will never
forget…
It was myself, my cousin Paul and my cousin Jason… we were
in the field just playing … picking up dirt rocks and tossing them at each
other. Kind of like dodge ball but with baseball sized clay. We heard a yell from the house “Stop
throwing that dirt!” it was uncle Ollie leaning out of the door.
Obviously as kids one warning isn’t enough…we stop for about
10 mins then picked back up where we left off….
In the mist of our dirt bomb war...my cousin Paul starts
running…. I think it’s just part of the game…he runs behind a stack of crates
near the shed…. As I turn around I see Uncle Ollie in knee high rubber boots
and a leather belt in his hand racing toward us. It was like a cheetah chancing down its prey. Jason and I
both take off running...I mean within a blink of an eye Uncle Ollie had covered
the 200yard distance. He could have given Jesse Owens a run for his money I’m
sure…
There was a large hill about 10 feet in front of us ….our
only chance of escape was to leap over the hill and run to the shed where Paul
was hiding. Jason and I both headed
for the hill… as I jump * pow * I
get caught with the belt on my hand. Jason isn’t so lucky… I look back and see
Jason on the ground in the fetal position taking shot after shot from the belt.
Of course I felt bad…but I wasn’t going back to help! (I’d be terrible in the
military)
After he finished Uncle Ollie calmly walked back to the
house….Paul comes out from hiding , he’s laughing historically. Jason picks
himself off the ground and looks like he just went though a gang
initiation. I get off pretty
easily with only a little swelling on the hand …but I did learn my lesson Uncle
Ollie! =-)
You’ll be missed….
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