Plumed Horses

Spoke with my brother Billy. We get by with grim humor in these times. Now that it's down to the 2 of us, we're gonna make plans to razz the last one standing from beyond. It's how we get thru these. What else to do when you're the last of a big family? Accept your dinosaur status and prepare for extinction? No. You spit in the eye of death.


As a family, we always drank whiskey at a death. Today, a friend brought me a bottle of Black Velvet. She had no way of knowing that was Tommy's favorite. I don't know if I'll crack the bottle. But I kinda like it sitting here in front of me. Maybe I'll make a tantine with Billy for it.

When we first started dealing with Tommy dying, he and I set up a code for him to let me know he'd made it over and all was well. "If it's allowed." He said. We were kidding, but I'm sure I'll have my ear tuned to hear that code for as long as I live.

Let the funeral march begin, bring out the black-plumed horses...