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*homage to BartCop
Those who have been listening to the radio in Western Washington have already heard this story. They're not releasing names as of yet, and I'm not going to, either. Three local people died this morning while ice climbing near Banff.
My husband is a long-time volunteer of a local police department. One of the people that died is a guy he's worked fairly closely with. If you ever met the guy in question, you'd know what kind of a loss this is.
He was a part of mountain search and rescue -- the kind of guy that comes up to rescue one's ass after one thinks it's possible to climb Mount Rainier in shorts, a t-shirt, and a cell phone. He lived his life every day; instead of waiting for something to happen, he made it happen. Don't get me wrong: He had his faults, and had his failings. I'm not going to enumerate them. At the same time, to know him was to realize that it was better to burn out than to fade away.
My husband said to me, "Can you imagine how many lives he must have saved over the years?" My poor husband will spend the weekend grieving for his friend. I prefer to remember that the guy in question would have kicked my ass (and then sent Skittles over to kick my ass,) if I ever shed one tear over him. He'd prefer it that we all found something that equalled the passion he had for mountaineering, and went out and did it.
So, remember: We don't know how long any of us have. Get out there and enjoy every day, or my friend (who's probably now giving God an earful,) will come over and kick your ass. <G>
Julie
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