I had to go to Walmart to pick up some stuff. I took my two-and-a-half year old with me. We had to park pretty far out in the parking lot, and as we were walking toward the store, a clean-cut young man approached us with a fist full of pamphlets.

I knew what he was coming to say, and as soon as the young man got close enough to start his spiel, “Hi, I’m a professional . . .” I waved him off with, “No thank you.”

He nodded politely and moved on. But I caught a glimpse of the pamphlet he was carrying. It looked like it had a pretty cool, color illustration—something with swords and armor and horses.

Did he say he was a “professional” something? By the time that term struck me, he and we were too far apart to change my mind. Damn. That illustration on his pamplet, and his use of the term “professional” got me intrigued.

Anyway, we went on in the store, bought what we needed, and headed back out. Just outside the exit door, I saw the young man sitting on a bench holding his pamphlets. He looked tired, hot, and maybe a little dejected. I stopped and asked him if he was the guy that approached me in the parking lot. He confirmed he was, and pulled out one of the pamphlets.

“This is important information about Revelations that you can read.”

I took the pamphlet, thanked him, and then moved on with my son. I didn’t get a chance to look at the pamphlet until I got home.

The image is pretty cool. A sky scene, with a big moon in the center background, and four horsemen on flying horses (without wings). One horseman, on a white horse, wearing silver and gold armor, pulling taunt a mighty bow, is a white-haired king (with crown). This is presumedly, God. The other three horsemen are obviously evil—probably War on his red horse, Death on his pale horse, and . . . who is this guy on the black horse? He carries a set of balance scales (Death has his scythe, War has his bloody sword). I guess I need to read the text on the reverse side. (I was going to read the text anyway.)

Well, apparently, the rider on the black horse, with the scales in his hands, is Capitalism. I kid you not.

I didn’t expect that. I had always thought the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were War, Death, Famine, and Pestilence. According to this pamphlet, famine is part of Capitalism, and pestilence is part of Death. And one Horseman is actually a good guy: God (Jesus). Hmm. I’ll have to research this story further.

I’ll keep this illustration; it really is cool. But I never found out what the evangelist meant by “professional”. Professional what?

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

The funeral service was very nice. As part of the memorial, some of the family wrote a note about my step-dad. This is the story I related:

I was around 13 years old, and trying to cheat on a book report for school. I hadn’t read the book, and the report I wrote was pure bull. But I, being a smart and wily teenager, knew I could fool my teacher. My mom had me read my report in front of her and my step-dad, and I put on a confident air as I read. When I finished, the look on my step-dad’s face scared me: confusion and disappointment. He easily saw the errors in my report, but he didn’t want to believe it. He asked me a few questions about the subject of the book, and I tried to continue the deception. My ability and will failed me the more I tried.

My mom and step-dad let me go back to my room without saying what I knew they knew. A few minutes later, when my step-dad came to my room to talk with me, I was in tears. I wasn’t crying because I knew I had been caught; I was torn up because of the look of disappointment on my step-dad’s face. He didn’t want to believe I was being so deceitful.

In my room, he didn’t show anger. He didn’t scold me. He just asked, “Why?” Through my blubbering, I admitted that I just hadn’t bothered to read the book. He hugged me firmly, and long.

After I calmed down enough to listen, he talked to me. He told me what he thought of me: he was disappointed in what I had just done, but not in me. Then we talked out my options for that report.

I don’t remember the end result of the book report (probably wasn’t a good grade), but I remember vividly that hug and that talk in my bedroom. It was a simple thing that made me want to be a good, better, person.

***

That story is a good example of what he was like as a step-dad. The term, “step-father” has a lot of negative baggage, so I dislike using it to describe this man. That’s why I prefer to say, “step-dad.” He was a regular, daily, positive part of my life since I was 7 years old.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

When my mother called Sunday evening, she was distraught. The conversation was confusing and short. The only thing I could understand was “come home.” I didn’t know what was happening, but it was urgent and terrible. I thought something was happening right that moment, in my mom and step-dad’s house. Many horrible possibilities went through my head, including my step-dad having a heart-attack. I told my mom to dial 9-1-1, and that I was coming.

I was in my car and on the road within minutes, but it would take two hours to get to my hometown. I was on my cell phone trying to get more information regularly for the first half hour of the drive.

I learned that my step-dad had died of a heart-attack. Even though that very potentiality had gone through my head a few minutes before, the reality of the concept just didn’t set in my mind. He had died a few hours previous, but my mom had just found out.

I had left my house with just the clothes on my back; I hadn’t taken time to pack anything. I had left the kids in the capable hands of my wife and mother-in-law. When I understood that my absolute immediate presence was not necessary (I could take five minutes to pick up some necessities), I pulled into a grocery store.

I went in and quickly grabbed some toothpaste, a toothbrush, and some other such items. I took my basket to the checkout with the shortest line—just one customer. I’d forgotten that it was a Sunday night; the store was busy, and most of the checkout lines long.

The guy ahead of me was purchasing just a six-pack of beer. The cashier had to check his ID, and then the guy asked for a carton of cigerettes. The cashier went over to the cigerette case and pulled out his brand. I was in a hurry, so this was seeming to take just such a long time. They cashier rang the two items up and the guy wanted to pay with a check.

The cashier had to call over a manager to approve the check, and there was some problem. I noticed the other checkout lines were moving customers right along—the next register over had already rung out two customers in the length of time I had been standing behind this loser with the beer, cigerettes, and bad check.

All the other open checkouts had several customers in line, but I saw a self-checkout with a vacancy. I gave up on the hang up line and went to ring myself up. Ironically and frustratingly, there was a glitch in this self-checkout computer. It hung up on some recurssive routine, telling me to place the item on the conveyer belt and scan the next item, place the item on the conveyer belt and scan the next item, place the item on the conveyer belt and scan the next item. Dammit! For the love of. . .! I’m literally dealing with a death in the family, and I’m getting this sitcom scenario holding me up.

I was about to just cuss and forget about the purchase when a clerk came up and helped me out. In just another minute, I was heading out the door, back to my car.

I eventually made it to my hometown and met up with my family. I learned that my step-dad had been out at his dog pen, where he keeps his deer hunting dogs, must have gotten tired and hot, sat down on the tailgate of his pickup truck, and just passed peacefully. That’s probably the way he would have wanted to go. Doing something he loved to do (dealing with his dogs), peacefully, and quickly.

He was 70 years old. He leaves a wife, 6 children, 8 grandchildren, 1 new great-grandchild, many other family members, and friends too numerous to count. He was a good man. Heaven has improved with his arrival.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

My step-father died of a heart-attack Sunday. I am currently in my old hometown with family and friends. Until today, I’ve had no way to post to my blog, so you can see there’s 3 days of missing posts. Now that I have things set up with a laptop, I’ll be posting my daily thoughts again, even from Smalltown, Southern State.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com