There’s always something to howl about.

Ave atque vale: Bidding farewell to Ben

My father-in-law, Ben Collins, passed away Monday afternoon. I’ve been dealing with our work since then while Cathy worked on the preparations for the funeral. Starting this afternoon we’re both tied up for a bit.

I hadn’t intended to write about this, but I also hadn’t intended to cry for the man. He was a warhorse, a giant among men, a champion of every virtue I admire on this earth. I’m very proud to have known him. Even so, I thought I would be practical enough to be phlegmatic about his death. It turns out I was wrong.

This is for Cathy, because she loves it:

And this is for Ben, may he rest in peace:

A Cowboy’s Prayer

by Badger Clark

Oh Lord, I’ve never lived where churches grow.
        I loved creation better as it stood
That day You finished it so long ago
        And looked upon Your work and called it good.
I know that others find You in the light
        That’s sifted down through tinted window panes,
And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
        In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.

I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
        That You have made my freedom so complete;
That I’m no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
        Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street,
Just let me live my life as I’ve begun
        And give me work that’s open to the sky;
Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,
        And I won’t ask a life that’s soft or high.

Let me be easy on the man that’s down;
        Let me be square and generous with all.
I’m careless sometimes, Lord, when I’m in town,
        But never let ’em say I’m mean or small!
Make me as big and open as the plains,
        As honest as the hawse between my knees,
Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
        Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!

Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
        You know about the reasons that are hid.
You understand the things that gall and fret;
        You know me better than my mother did.
Just keep an eye on all that’s done and said
        And right me, sometimes, when I turn aside,
And guide me down the long, dim trail ahead
        That stretches upward toward the Great Divide.

Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Grant him eternal rest, O Lord, and may your everlasting light shine upon him. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.