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Tuesday, March 2

RIP Brad Turner- Blackdog

It's been a year since Blackdog left us. Those of you who didn't know him missed a great guy.

Here's a repost of a bit of sentiment I penned back then.
Miss ya guy!



Excerpted from Thanatopsis:
...So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.


It’s a cold, frosty morning as I sit at the old computer. For some reason, it’s difficult to see the screen real well, as it’s as difficult to type the words.

We lost a friend yesterday. A friend left us much too soon, even for all the problems he endured.
It shouldn’t be that hard to write about someone you never met in person yet I knew Brad maybe better than some people I see and have seen every day for over 50 years. Damn screen keeps blurring. Maybe I’ll get it checked.

We had many, probably a few hundred phone conversations over the last few years. They were always friendly; he was always upbeat even though I knew that wasn’t the case. To let on wasn’t what he wanted.

If many of you enjoyed his special way of writing about life, he spoke the same gentle way. Oh, he had harsh words for some that he felt deserved them but never wished harm to any, well any harm that his nine iron wouldn’t do...in a joking way.

He loved talking about the area he lived in; fishing, some relatives, some old times. I got to know a great deal about the history of the area around his town. I could picture, through his verbal paintings an old house built during the Civil War he remembered so fondly. Or the place where the town of Little Rock got its name, or so he told me; the Cyprus trees on a special lake he liked.

He used to tell me stories of his life working in California and living in the desert. We exchanged tales of that dry life and laughed about events that were all too similar to each of us.
He loved his dogs, especially Woof. He told me that Woof seemed to “understand” things. We never went beyond that. There goes that blur again. Really need to correct that; maybe in a week or so...

We talked about the possibility of getting together this year to meet face to face and he seemed hopeful even though I knew better.

Brad’s gone, now. I met him online, talked with him hundreds of times by phone, never knew what he looked like, yet he was probably a closer friend than many others I have and had.

53 is much too young today to leave this world.

Brad “blackdog” Turner – truly one of the finest kind I knew.

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