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The last time I took Pop to the big lake, the wind was so strong,
it nearly blew his wheelchair over, I knew just where to stop...
at the top of the hill, the windiest place!

I left him alone, he just looked out on the lake unblinking,
rewinding moments, that made him who he was.

In days past.....

He told me the story of his best friend in high-school, who wanted
Dad to go along with him duck-hunting on that sunny, warm morning in fall... 
1940, Dad had promised my Mom (not yet married!) he would go with her 
on a picnic in the bluffs along the Mississippi.... so he declined.
From sunshine and 70... to freezing white-out conditions up and down the river,
many lives were lost that day, including my Pop's best friend.... 
the Great Armistice Day Storm lived on in Pop's heart...
Dad went to his friend's funeral.

Or the time.....

 Dad took my Grandpa (Mom's Dad) on the first vacation he had
 ever been on! Grandpa worked until he died...... the Company
he worked for had tricked him, letting him work 29yrs. 11 months,
and 28 days, then firing him two days before his pension would kick-in.
Pop took him fishin' for the first time in his life! bought him a straw fishin' hat too!
Dad kept baitin' his hook and Grandpa caught 6-fish before Dad could cast a line!.... 
Pop called him 6-fish Bumford after that! and us kids weren't allowed to touch
Grandpa's straw-hat from that fishin' trip..... Dad kept it on a hook in his work-room
 in the basement, with the words "Six Fish Bumford...My Best Friend"
 scrawled under it on the wall (I still have it)

In a while, I knew it was time to bring him back......he had finished
looking out on his life....

.......he was ready to go

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