As a child I was ALWAYS taught to respect
my elders but now days it's getting harder and harder to find one. One
of those I respected immensely was Chuck Irwin who just passed away at
the age of 94. If his name sounds familiar it's probably because he was
one of the best bit and spur makers in the country. Cowboys loved his
silver works of art and horses even more so. Chuck was at a show three
days before he died, still taking orders. That night he went out to eat,
tripped over a curb and fell. He grimaced, cowboyed up, ate a steak and
drank some whiskey before some friends convinced him to go to a
hospital. Three days later Chuck checked out of this orbiting nut house
and the world is a lesser place.
Someone
I'm sure you've never heard about was the lovely Lavinia, a friend of a
friend who my wife visited religiously two and three times a week for a
couple years. I dropped by on holidays and birthdays and one of the two
photographs I have in my room is of Lavinia as I fed her chocolate cake
on her hundredth birthday.
My
favorite old person was my wonderful grandfather who passed away at 94.
I think of him every day. From these three wonderful people I learned a
few things on how to live a long and meaningful life.
First,
stay away from doctors, hospitals and pharmacies. I bet between them,
Chuck, Lavinia and grandpa never spent twelve days in a hospital. I also
learned that people are a lot like cows, when their teeth start to
deteriorate so does their life. At the end, my grandpa's teeth didn't
even sleep in the same room as he did. My friends also avoided lawyers,
stayed out of divorce court and were each married only once until death
did them part.
Not
one of my friends was a vegetarian or took Ginko biloba. They were
raised on meat and milk and ate their share of prunes. They ate slowly
and in small amounts. My grandpa could take an hour to eat one enchilada
and when I fed Lavinia two helpings of her centennial birthday cake I
thought she'd make 101 before we were done. Nor did they let alcohol
ruin their lives, although Grandpa did enjoy a thimbleful of blackberry
wine occasionally, but I doubt that's what killed him.
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