Donny was a good bowler and a good man. He was a one of us. He was a man who loved the outdoors and bowling.
And as a surfer he explored the beaches of Southern California from La Jolla to Leo Carillo and up to Pismo.
He died--like so many of young men of his generation--he died before his time. In your wisdom, Lord, you took him, as you took so many bright flowering young men at Pea San at Lao Doc at Hill 364. These young men gave their lives.
And so did Donny. Donny who loved bowling.
And, so, Theodore Donald Kerabatsos, in accordance with what we think your dying wishes might well have been, we commit your final mortal remains to the bosom of the Pacific Ocean which you loved so well.
"He died doing what he loved" is a consolation to the living, but for the dead it has no meaning.
You might think that is profound, David, but it is vacuous.
People know death awaits, and while alive, express the hopes that their end is a good one, and that it doesn't come too early.
The Doane guy died to early, but he died with no pain, happy, and knowing he was with friends as happy as he for his accomplishing a lifetime dream.
If there is a soul, the way you go matters, obviously if memory persists in an afterlife. And while those who die are still living, it matters. It may shape their life choices. It may have helped reconcile them early in life to their eventual death by concluding that things involving some risk of death are nevertheless worth doing - or experiencing a near-death doing that sort of risky something something they wanted to do.
So how one dies is not a pure function of the meaning of just how physical survivors in the aftermath feel.
"He died doing what he loved" is a comfort to the living, but I have heard it used in the most pathetic situations, including for a person who was murdered just walking down the street. X loved to walk down the street! In this case, the person died at a great peak of personal satisfaction.
In "Beast in the Garden", David Baron describes the young man's horrible, lengthy death by mountain lion, and includes the teen's friends saying, "He would have wanted to go that way."
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17 comments:
Wow. If I ever have a 300 game going, I'll be tempted to roll a gutter ball at the end of the 10th frame - just in case.
No post bowlitus triste for him!
That's why it's safer to bowl candlepins.
I will drink a beer in Don's honor tonight.
There are worse ways to go.
There might be better ways, too, but most of them would cause embarrassment for the surviving family members.
I bet two of the friends he was high-fiving were named The Dude and Walter Sobchak?
A commemorative plaque on the wall of fame will not suffice.
Mr. Doane must be stuffed and permanently installed exactly as he was when he gave his last “high-five.”
It would be a fitting tribute.
It would assure good luck for the truly daring bowler.
And just think of the tourist trade!
Too bad there wasn't a defibrillator nearby. High emotional stress can actually trigger deadly heart rhythms.
A stroke can cause a heart attack.
The brain-heart connection is sorta freaky.
As a result, I try not to have lusty dreams, and in the case of actual lust, I just lie back and think of England.
Donny was a good bowler and a good man. He was a one of us. He was a man who loved the outdoors and bowling.
And as a surfer he explored the beaches of Southern California from La Jolla to Leo Carillo and up to Pismo.
He died--like so many of young men of his generation--he died before his time. In your wisdom, Lord, you took him, as you took so many bright flowering young men at Pea San at Lao Doc at Hill 364. These young men gave their lives.
And so did Donny. Donny who loved bowling.
And, so, Theodore Donald Kerabatsos, in accordance with what we think your dying wishes might well have been, we commit your final mortal remains to the bosom of the Pacific Ocean which you loved so well.
Good night, Sweet Prince.
"He died doing what he loved" is a consolation to the living, but for the dead it has no meaning.
I always knew that damn game was dangerous.
"Pogo said...
As a result, I try not to have lusty dreams, and in the case of actual lust, I just lie back and think of England."
What? That doesn't get you going?
Freak.
;)
"He died doing what he loved" is a consolation to the living, but for the dead it has no meaning.
You might think that is profound, David, but it is vacuous.
People know death awaits, and while alive, express the hopes that their end is a good one, and that it doesn't come too early.
The Doane guy died to early, but he died with no pain, happy, and knowing he was with friends as happy as he for his accomplishing a lifetime dream.
If there is a soul, the way you go matters, obviously if memory persists in an afterlife.
And while those who die are still living, it matters. It may shape their life choices. It may have helped reconcile them early in life to their eventual death by concluding that things involving some risk of death are nevertheless worth doing - or experiencing a near-death doing that sort of risky something something they wanted to do.
So how one dies is not a pure function of the meaning of just how physical survivors in the aftermath feel.
"He died doing what he loved" is a comfort to the living, but I have heard it used in the most pathetic situations, including for a person who was murdered just walking down the street. X loved to walk down the street! In this case, the person died at a great peak of personal satisfaction.
In "Beast in the Garden", David Baron describes the young man's horrible, lengthy death by mountain lion, and includes the teen's friends saying, "He would have wanted to go that way."
Johnny Wad died doing what he loved, too. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
To achieve perfection in bowling and then die is a disturbing combo of banality and mortality. It's like God picking up the spare.
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