HashBucket
Well-Known Member
As I write this, I weep.
My friend of forty years died.
Wally was 86 years old. He was a veteran of the Viet Nam conflict. He was forward recon. He did and saw some chit that people should not see or do. He served honorably, but I'm told he spent a lot of time in the brig. I believe it; he didn't suffer the presence of fools well. And, it didn't seem to matter what status, rank or size the fool happened to be.
I met him first when I was a hippy kid growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area. He hired me to 'mule' in supplies in a gorilla grow he had going. I think it was over 700 plants. Me and a half dozen people were hired to bring in food and entertainment to the guy living there and tending the grow. It was 1975.
I did many odd jobs for him. He taught me so much. He taught me:
- To respect the land, love your mother earth. Don't harm her.
- If you are sure that a fight is going to happen, hit first with everything you got.
- Sleep with your boots on - you never know when you might have to bug out.
- Listen. Never know so much that you won't listen.
- I'm not as weak and stupid as I think I am.
He was the nicest guy you'd ever meet - he was the most dangerous asshole you ever had the misfortune of bumping in to. The good thing was ... it was up to YOU which Wally you got. You got to choose.
One day, he gave me my own grow site. He taught me how to nurse life where there was none before. He taught me how and when to be cruel; how and when to have compassion. How to control my emotions, how to problem solve during the heat of an emergency. How to follow a stream to civilization, how to evade pursuit. How to 'listen' to the woods. (The animals talk to us you know ...) How to hide and evade. How to lay down a false trail, how to backtrack. How and when to surrender. How to resist interrogation.
All these things needed to be learned because he knew that some day the helicopters will come. He'd get this funny look and say, "They always come, sooner or later." And one day five years later they did.
I was at the edge of the field when I heard the wop wop wop in the distance. I coudnt make it to my tent so I couldn't get my bug out bag. I had another one stashed ... but I couldb't get to it either.
I ran and evaded for four days. Sleeping in trees if at all. Trying to find enough food to stay on my feet. I ate raw crawdads out of a stream ... and they tasted DELICIOUS.
I finally walked out of the woods near a little town called Covalo, and called him. He said it was a two hour drive but that he was on his way.
The guy behind the counter looked at me funny as I gave him my cover story. Told him I had no money on me but I sure was hungry. He gave me a Twinkie to eat - which I did in four bites. Then promptly barfed it up.
Wally made that trip in one hour, went in to get a water and pay the man for the Twinkie.
First thing he said to me? "You look like shit." LoL
My grow spot management career was over, so he taught me how to clone, and I did his clones for his grows for years.
He always treated me fairly. I never witnessed him do anything else to anyone else.
...
One day, I'm visiting him in the hospital. His wife is there too, and so is mine. It's my turn now ... "You look like shit". He laughed and coughed wetly. He knows that he doesn't have long, hours. The cancer was causing systems to shut down. He told me that he always wished that he would die with his girls all around him. He loved farming, he loved those plants.
I scolded him, asking why he didn't say something sooner.
His wife of 45 years said she knew but had given up on fulfilling his wish, "we can't get him out of here now."
"Bullshit", says I. "If he wants to leave, he can leave. Because I said so if for no other reason."
I asked him, point blank, "Where do you want to die?"
He smiled, his eyes filled and he said, "With my girls. ALL my girls .." taking his wife's hand.
"Let's do it then" I said. And we made a plan, we sprung him.
Put a note on the bed to the effect that he had left the hospital voluntarily, we took out the IV, I put him in a wheelchair and we rolled out like we owned the place. Loaded up in the car and .... to the garden.
We stacked three sleeping bags out, lots of padding.
We set up a great little spot, right in the isle way of his indoor garden. He had everything he needed. Good smoke, good likker ... we even turned off the CO2 so he'd get a good dose of oxygen. He rested well. Him, and ALL of his girls. When wife and I left he was spooning his wife and snoring with his face buried in her hair.
...
Ms. Wally called a few hours later to say that he had passed. Peacefully and painlessly. I'd like to think that he died at 0420.
He was quite a guy. The world is less today that it was before. Darker, more dingey, shades of gray. I hope that where ever he is that he is prepping the soil for me. Getting it ready. Hope he picked a spot with a good southern exposure, and lots of clean water nearby. And, no helicopters ... he didn't like helicopters.
He was buried this afternoon. He had a joint behind his left ear, and his favorite stash jar for the trip. Wifey said, "We gotta give him some papers too, what good is a smoke if ya can't ..." then she started crying. Damn.
See you soon my friend. Me, and my wife and you and your wife ... we can keep heaven supplied with some fine herb the four of us. We will make bright green colas as long as your leg. Miss you till then - see you soon.
My friend of forty years died.
Wally was 86 years old. He was a veteran of the Viet Nam conflict. He was forward recon. He did and saw some chit that people should not see or do. He served honorably, but I'm told he spent a lot of time in the brig. I believe it; he didn't suffer the presence of fools well. And, it didn't seem to matter what status, rank or size the fool happened to be.
I met him first when I was a hippy kid growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area. He hired me to 'mule' in supplies in a gorilla grow he had going. I think it was over 700 plants. Me and a half dozen people were hired to bring in food and entertainment to the guy living there and tending the grow. It was 1975.
I did many odd jobs for him. He taught me so much. He taught me:
- To respect the land, love your mother earth. Don't harm her.
- If you are sure that a fight is going to happen, hit first with everything you got.
- Sleep with your boots on - you never know when you might have to bug out.
- Listen. Never know so much that you won't listen.
- I'm not as weak and stupid as I think I am.
He was the nicest guy you'd ever meet - he was the most dangerous asshole you ever had the misfortune of bumping in to. The good thing was ... it was up to YOU which Wally you got. You got to choose.
One day, he gave me my own grow site. He taught me how to nurse life where there was none before. He taught me how and when to be cruel; how and when to have compassion. How to control my emotions, how to problem solve during the heat of an emergency. How to follow a stream to civilization, how to evade pursuit. How to 'listen' to the woods. (The animals talk to us you know ...) How to hide and evade. How to lay down a false trail, how to backtrack. How and when to surrender. How to resist interrogation.
All these things needed to be learned because he knew that some day the helicopters will come. He'd get this funny look and say, "They always come, sooner or later." And one day five years later they did.
I was at the edge of the field when I heard the wop wop wop in the distance. I coudnt make it to my tent so I couldn't get my bug out bag. I had another one stashed ... but I couldb't get to it either.
I ran and evaded for four days. Sleeping in trees if at all. Trying to find enough food to stay on my feet. I ate raw crawdads out of a stream ... and they tasted DELICIOUS.
I finally walked out of the woods near a little town called Covalo, and called him. He said it was a two hour drive but that he was on his way.
The guy behind the counter looked at me funny as I gave him my cover story. Told him I had no money on me but I sure was hungry. He gave me a Twinkie to eat - which I did in four bites. Then promptly barfed it up.
Wally made that trip in one hour, went in to get a water and pay the man for the Twinkie.
First thing he said to me? "You look like shit." LoL
My grow spot management career was over, so he taught me how to clone, and I did his clones for his grows for years.
He always treated me fairly. I never witnessed him do anything else to anyone else.
...
One day, I'm visiting him in the hospital. His wife is there too, and so is mine. It's my turn now ... "You look like shit". He laughed and coughed wetly. He knows that he doesn't have long, hours. The cancer was causing systems to shut down. He told me that he always wished that he would die with his girls all around him. He loved farming, he loved those plants.
I scolded him, asking why he didn't say something sooner.
His wife of 45 years said she knew but had given up on fulfilling his wish, "we can't get him out of here now."
"Bullshit", says I. "If he wants to leave, he can leave. Because I said so if for no other reason."
I asked him, point blank, "Where do you want to die?"
He smiled, his eyes filled and he said, "With my girls. ALL my girls .." taking his wife's hand.
"Let's do it then" I said. And we made a plan, we sprung him.
Put a note on the bed to the effect that he had left the hospital voluntarily, we took out the IV, I put him in a wheelchair and we rolled out like we owned the place. Loaded up in the car and .... to the garden.
We stacked three sleeping bags out, lots of padding.
We set up a great little spot, right in the isle way of his indoor garden. He had everything he needed. Good smoke, good likker ... we even turned off the CO2 so he'd get a good dose of oxygen. He rested well. Him, and ALL of his girls. When wife and I left he was spooning his wife and snoring with his face buried in her hair.
...
Ms. Wally called a few hours later to say that he had passed. Peacefully and painlessly. I'd like to think that he died at 0420.
He was quite a guy. The world is less today that it was before. Darker, more dingey, shades of gray. I hope that where ever he is that he is prepping the soil for me. Getting it ready. Hope he picked a spot with a good southern exposure, and lots of clean water nearby. And, no helicopters ... he didn't like helicopters.
He was buried this afternoon. He had a joint behind his left ear, and his favorite stash jar for the trip. Wifey said, "We gotta give him some papers too, what good is a smoke if ya can't ..." then she started crying. Damn.
See you soon my friend. Me, and my wife and you and your wife ... we can keep heaven supplied with some fine herb the four of us. We will make bright green colas as long as your leg. Miss you till then - see you soon.
