i’m not here, this isn’t happening
I can’t stop looking at this photo, which ran in the New York Times on Saturday, March 12.
The same day Scotty’s body was lowered into the earth.
Timmi and I cried throughout the service, and then drove to the cemetery together. It was the first time I have been in a police escort funeral procession. My sister had to tell me to put on my hazards.
I didn’t know that.
We were the seventh car. We drove by the golf course, where he used to play, and by the ground the old Twin TeePees stood on. Scotty worked there, as a teenager. His sister spoke about it, at the funeral, and made everyone laugh.
The procession went from Fremont, past the Greenlake house that Scotty grew up in, and to the Catholic cemetery in Shoreline.
It tied up traffic for miles. When we arrived, the cops stood at the entrance to the cemetery and saluted us.
He would have fucking loved it.
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Hello Kerri,
Hopefully this will lift your spirits (pun intended) after all of the sadness you have had to go through lately.
http://clarelibrary.blogspot.com/2009/05/tom-lenihan-singing-at-kilrush-fleadh.html
The tune was actually called “Paddy’s Panacea”
craythur/crathur/cratur/creature
[n.]. 1. [<'creature': strong drink (joc.) 1614]. Whiskey, more gen. illicitly distilled poteen (q.v.). Most commonly in phrase 'a drop of the craythur'. 1824 Thomas Crofton Croker,
With Love,
Slainte,
JPOB