Braden and Erin's Nursery

Charlie had his share of close calls with death, but as he was throughout life, death had to work overtime to bring him down.  There must have been 4 Christmas seasons in a row that Charlie had died and been brought back.  A couple of the times I witnessed a man that was like a piece of old leather, impossible to bring down.

Throughout the family, I do not really believe that anyone, including Charlie, figured he would pull through any of the situations.  But each time, he did.  I never heard him indicate he suffered any pain.  Ever.  He had cancer, diabetes, amputated toes, a colonoscopy, heart disease, among other ailments.  Of all of those things, he never spoke to me of one of them.

Once, we were in a remote area of Colorado only acessible by 4 wheel drive and Charlie started having issues breathing.  The decision was made to descend down to Colorado Springs to see if a lower altitude would help.  As he began to stand up, his face went pale and he looked faint.  My dad and I ran over to catch him from falling and as he fell into our arms, his eyes rolled back and he stopped breathing.  We carried him to the porch outside and laid him down and he began to breathe shallowly.  911 was called and arrived in a few minutes in an ambulance that could not get where we were staying.  A life flight helicopter was called and a 4X4 fire rescue vehicle made it up to the house.  Meanwhile, my grandmother was explaining everything to the EMT that had hiked up the driveway on foot and ended up saying, "the shorter list would be things he does not or has not had".  The EMT was dumbfounded and started naming things, I do not believe he named something that Charlie had not suffered from previously.  It made triage very difficult.

The helicopter was circling overhead and had no where to land when the regular ambulance left to scout out a landing location.  A few minutes later, 3 EMTs from the helicopter came running up the driveway with all their equipment.  They loaded Charlie, with our help, into the fire rescue vehicle and got him down to the ambulance which took him to the helicopter.

The next day, we went to visit him in Colorado Springs and the first thing he said was, "I wanted to come down here for air and drive by Pike’s Peak.  It sure will be expensive but I got a great view from the helicopter and it was a lot faster."

I found out from the doctor that he had suffered from a blood clot in his leg breaking free and moving through his heart and into his lungs.  The docotor also indicated that considering all of his history, Charlie should not have lived, and even though he did, he might not last long.

He ended up lasting 4 more years and going through several more setbacks.  Each time, I never heard a thing from him.  He would just wait for me to sit down and then launch into an adventure in Belize or British Honduras.

When he finally passed, I was lucky enough to be in the same state.  I happened to be 100’s of miles away, but after hearing it was time, I was able to say a few words to him on the phone.  I couldn’t hear his response, but my grandmother later told me he was happy for me and wished me well.  The funeral arrangements were made and I decided to go to the wake.  It was on a Friday, so I had to hop a plane to get to Corpus Christi and rent a car to drive up to Rockport.

I did not know what to expect when I got there, but I do not believe a more perfect location and service could have been prepared.

As I have reflected, it is almost like the movie "big fish".  Charlie was a story teller.  Story tellers in general have some basis in fact but are filled with a lot of ficiton.  As I had grown throughout the years, I figured much of what he had talked about fell into the later category.  At the service, several 80+ year olds were congregating around that I had never seen or met before.  As the preacher asked for comments, each one of the old men started into a story one after the other.  The stories were just like Charlie’s stories had been all those years.  Except these men were not telling stories, they would remembering the man and these stories were factual.  As fantastic and outlandish Charlie’s stories would be, these stories of times gone by were even more unbelievable, but they were being told by the men who lived them.

As the stories ended, an old black man with a leather belt emerged from behind an old oak tree.  He had been standing alone for the service and it was clear now as a woman helped him that he was blind.  He walked up next to the casket and opened his jacket revealing the belt with holsters containing several harmonicas.

The old man reach down and pulled out one of the instruments from his belt and started playing the most soulful, sad, mournful songs that I have ever heard.  I have never been so moved by music and never has music fit into a situation more perfectly.  As sad and moving as it all was, in many ways it was very uplifting to me personally as being able to put Charlie to rest.  His grave overlooked the harbour, under a big oak tree with those people gathered that were changed by him living.