In Rememberance

In Remembrance
My wife's uncle, Edmund Dobson, was laid to rest today, December 30, 2004, at the age of 76 years old. He succumbed to cancer, a battle that has been ongoing for at least the past 28 years that I have known him, as I can remember him applying a prescription acid, which smarted quite a bit, to the skin melanoma that he had on his arms and hands.
He was a hard working individual, and quite a character, also anytime there was a death in the family, close or not, you could find his face in the crowd, dutifully paying his last respects.
Around 26 years ago, while there was a short lull in the wildcat drilling in the area, I worked for him on a roust-a-bout crew. The pay was not good, and the work was hard, and this was when he seemed to be at his finest. Often as we toiled alongside another crew, and they would be taking extended card playing lunch breaks, we would be painting walking beams, spraying diesel, and using sling blades to clean up around the tank batteries. He said, "We have to earn our paychecks".
Earn it we did, as we waded knee deep in oil slicked waters, covering the oil with bales of hay so that the wildlife management personnel would not see it as they flew over in airplanes and impose hefty fines. We made up pipe lines and tightened them as quickly as you could walk from one connection to the next, the sun taking it's toll as your vision clouded over with darkness, seeing nothing but floating white spots, which cleared as you walked to the next joint, only to repeat the process. We filled sand bags and wheellbarrowed them to the edge of a gully 50 yards away then threw them into a washout when the dump truck delivering the sand could have easily unloaded within 20 feet from the gorge. "We have to make a day of it", he says. When I reminded him of this on occasion throughout the years, he only smiled with pride. I also learned a new meaning for the term "pipe dope", and in no way was it entertaining.
There were times when job duties required driving from one location to another, and there was no use removing the work gloves as he sped down dusty dirt roads or bumpy mud trails. On the drive home, though, there was plenty of time as he never motored over 45 MPH at the end of the day. It was frustrating but we grew accustomed to it as there was nothing to be done to change his style.
I can assure you that I learned some valuable lessons from him about work ethics and dedication, which has followed me to this day. I say this as I pen this note while sitting comfortably at my office desk, which, by the way, I earned.
So as the family is filled with sadness, and wife Maria, my father-in law's sister, is in poor health herself, I think back and I am grateful to have known this man, he has not left this world untouched, and I in turn touch others because of him. Some may come away with bitterness, others with important values and I am thankful that it is appointed unto man only once to die, which insinuates that we live forever, and dying is just a process somewhere in the middle, and that all the lives you touch here remember you, and will become a testament of your life and how you lived it, for better or for worse.
Thanks Uncle Ed, from an old hand, fare-the-well.
June 19, 1928 - December 28, 2004