Well now, for two years I was Carlton’s own personal combat medic. I took out stitches. Brewed up quarts of Dakins Solution. Had an Amazon subscription for extra strength Ensure. Kept JP drains draining. Tegadermed him up. And worried. Did I ever worry. World class worrier.
And, for the last two years I have been an old widow woman. I only have one Widow Woman task – I need to get Carlton back to Kona. “Legally” he is supposed to go via Express Mail – labeled as “Cremated Remains”. Methinks he will go in a nice flat rate box. Safely wrapped up in my wetsuit. Unlabeled. I don’t seem to have any “feelings” about that heavy plastic box that is all that is left of Carlton. But, I don’t want to creep anyone out. I don’t want a box showing up at my dear little hotel in Kona on Halloween labeled “Cremated Remains”.
And that will be that.
Will tonight’s VP debate have a line as great as “Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy. I knew Jack Kennedy. Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you’re no Jack Kennedy.” I doubt it. That is a very high bar to clear.