I wrote my last post about my Uncle Stanton 3 weeks ago.
Last week I wrote a nice little blog entry about my quiet week while my son went skiing. It wouldn't post. I wrote it TWICE but only the first few lines would post. I've never had that happen before. I gave up in frustration.
Sunday my Uncle Stanton died in a canoe accident. He and his son were canoeing on a pond near his home in Chicago. They capsized, falling into the freezing waters. My cousin was rescued.
I am in shock. I am heartbroken. I am horribly sad for my aunt who has now lost her two brothers in less than a year. I am horribly sad for his 4 children, his 6 grandchildren, and his one great-grandchild. It is little comfort that he was 92. His mother was 99 and his grandfather was 104 when they passed. Us Schuman's come from long-living stock.
And yes........I find comfort in knowing that he seemed to live as he wanted; canoeing every morning by himself and driving himself to Temple many times a week. My dad said he was on every "board" imaginable and sang in the choir at his Temple.
A few years ago I was talking to my cousin about his father and mine. I asked him, "How do we keep them safe?". He said, "we don't". They were stubborn old shits and we loved them for it.