by Sandy Sand
If I were younger and not approaching codgerhood, I probably couldn’t say this, but I know I’d think it.
Our ultimate demise is as sure as the moon rise, and any of us can leave this world at any time by having a bland, old, unnoticed heart attack that will only get an honorable mention in the newspaper if a family member bothers to pop for an obituary.
Not so for Eugene Caldwell, 78, a devout San Francisco 49ers fan, who met his match and his maker when he was stampeded by a frightened police horse in the parking lot of Candlestick Park.
It goes without saying that condolences go to his grieving family, even those named in the will, and it is my fervent hope that Caldwell’s family does not sue the City by the Bay.
It was a freakin’ accident, beyond the control of anyone, and the culmination of a long life that ended with his beloved 49ers, and earned him eight column inches in the Los Angeles Times.
How many of us can write that as our epitaph?
Ms. Sand is a codgeress-in-waiting while living on the Left Coast in Southern California.
Source: http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-candlestick31-2008aug31,0,5208459.story
2 comments:
Here's a fitting epitaph for Eugene "Bud" Caldwell--
Bud, not nimble
Bud, not quick
Bud, kicked over at Candlestick
At least, from now on he gets to watch free from a "sky box".
He really fell for that ol' free sky box.
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