No Ifs Ands Or Butts.
Today I turn 41. I don’t feel any excitement or disappointment in 41, it is what it is. But, I remember the first time I did feel old, it was not the last, but of course your first is always the most memorable. It was the summer of 2007; I was only thirty-four, just months before I turned thirty five. It was an extremely hot day and I was outside with my best friend Ann Dee and her family. It was the day of her dad’s funeral and burial. It was an old family plot, mostly dust and sand, and the family was responsible for digging the grave. I’m not sure when the miscalculations took place, but when it was time to lower the coffin into the ground, it didn’t fit. So, as you could imagine, it was uncomfortably funny and the coffin had to be pulled out and more dirt dug out of the tight space. Again, it was an extremely hot day and while we waited for what seemed like an eternity for a proper goodbye, I was standing by Ann Dee supporting her in her time of need. That’s when it happened — I felt a bead of sweat slowly rolling down the back of my leg. It was a funeral, so I was wearing a skirt; it was summer time so I was not wearing tights, and obviously the skin on skin contact from my butt cheeks to my thigh was too much. That was the moment I knew I was getting old.
Sad is shitty
At my Father-in-law’s services, we asked anyone who wanted to share a story to please do so and there were some beautiful remembrances, given by some very educated and articulate colleagues of Jim’s. After everyone told their story, I decided to lighten the mood, so I spoke up. “Grandpa told some of the best stories and my favorite was his near death experience as a kid. He was seven or eight, running in the fields in South Dakota on the farm where he grew up. I don’t know if they were playing tag or hide-and-seek but he was running and tripped on something. That fall caused him to fall HEAD FIRST in a poorly covered pit toilet.” Some people asked, “A what?” I continued, “An old outhouse, which was no longer in use and not covered well enough when it was full and moved to another location.” A few giggles and snickers from the audience. “So, I don’t remember exactly how he got out.” And I turned to my husband, who added, “I think his friend pulled him out.” I’m back on, “So, he is head first in an old pit toilet and his friend grabs him by the ankles and pulls him out and…” At this point I have my hands in the air and wave both of them once and the wrist, “well, he survived that shit!” The welcomed laughter broke the sadness.
Sad day.
I am not very good at “sad.” As a matter of fact, I run from it whenever I can, but here I go…
To my father-in-law, one of the smartest men I have ever had the privilege of conversing with and the most well-traveled person I have ever known. Both of those qualities he treated with the utmost humility. He shared some of the best stories, whether it was his near death experience falling head first into a poorly covered pit toilet as a child, to his time in Ecuador, to the pride he felt for his children. I feel lucky to have known such a person, one who strived and succeeded in being a simple man of simple means, but was willing to give to those who chose to live much grander lifestyles than he. I love my father-in-law, and more, really liked him and will miss him very much.
Jim Hoxeng August 13, 1939-August 9, 2013
Carmelina Hart 