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Editor's note: This column is written from Linn Armstrong's perspective.
Over the past several weeks, three of my friends, two of them also neighbors, passed away. I have always had the good fortune of having a life full of mentors. Usually these mentors have been older men, and I have already lost too many of them.
Henry Higgins passed away almost two months ago. Henry was an expert on how to be a good neighbor, in keeping with his old Tennessee philosophy on the matter. Mainly, Henry thought that a good neighbor doesn't stick his nose in his neighbor's business. Live and let live. However, if a neighbor asks you for help, you go out of your way to offer it.
A few winters ago Henry plowed my driveway when it was full of snow. I asked him how much I owed him. His answer was that he was being neighborly.
A few weeks later Henry called saying that he needed help with a project. When I finished it Henry in turn asked what he owed; I returned the same reply he had given me. Somehow hearing his own words drew a slight frown to his face; he was more comfortable offering help than receiving it.
Henry was a great poet and song writer. At a birthday party a few years ago my wife and Henry's relatives and friends all joined in to sing some of the songs he had written.
My friendship with John Kiernan often resembled a scene from the “Odd Couple.” We played tennis together for several years. He thoroughly enjoyed the game, though I suspect he was a better basketball player than a tennis player. I never questioned his close line calls, him being a priest and all. John usually had a good sense of humor unless he was behind in a match.
One hot summer day we were playing tennis at the Palisade courts. John was behind in the score. I looked up to the Bookcliffs and pointed out that the Boy Scouts climbed to the top every year to replace the worn flag with a new one. Joking around, I squinted toward the Bookcliffs and said it seemed silly to go to all that effort to put up an outdated flag with only 48 stars. I'm not sure what John thought about my claims of superior eyesight.
John served in World War II, enduring harsh conditions and the loss of friends while on the Aleutian Islands. He never said much about that war, a tendency we've seen among other veterans.
John was, however, passionate in his opposition to the war in Iraq. Usually I tried to steer clear of the subject. One day, though, John was playing tennis at the courts at Mesa State College when I arrived.
After we exchanged pleasantries, I told John that I had been trying to get hold of him for the last few days. He asked what I needed. I said that since he had been protesting the war in Iraq, I wanted to join him in protesting American involvement in Kosovo. We got a little heated. But we both chuckled about it the next time we met, realizing we had cleared the courts around us.
We also discussed religion. I found John's views of abortion interesting; he said that some in the priesthood believed that life (in the relevant sense) didn't start until the zygote attached to the womb of the mother.
We had long and ongoing debates on the merits of Aristotle versus Socrates. I claimed that his preference for Socrates had more to do with his church's history than with the relative merits of Aristotle.
No matter what our disagreements were, I was able to call on John on several occasions to ask him to help someone who was down and out. He was always there to help.
Chuck Wagner was my most fun neighbor. Who else would pull his Gatling gun out of storage and invite neighbors to shoot off a few rounds? For knowledge of firearms, Chuck beat Google hands down. If you had an older firearm and needed information about it, Chuck had the answers.
Chuck's knowledge of military history surpassed that of my college history professors. Chuck loved to share his knowledge with students whenever invited into the classroom. He brought in real uniforms and historical firearms, and young people could touch and feel real history.
For a number of years Chuck's constant companion was Willie, a black and white dog. Often Chuck drove down the highway with Willie sitting next to him, prompting some ribbing. Some said Chuck should have blamed Willie for a fender bender, but Chuck wouldn't hear of it.
Maybe it's just me, but it seems that old Garfield looks a little sadder lately as he keeps watch over the valley.
Linn Armstrong is a local political activist and firearms instructor with the Grand Valley Training Club. His son, Ari, edits FreeColorado.com from the Denver area.
Over the past several weeks, three of my friends, two of them also neighbors, passed away. I have always had the good fortune of having a life full of mentors. Usually these mentors have been older men, and I have already lost too many of them.
Henry Higgins passed away almost two months ago. Henry was an expert on how to be a good neighbor, in keeping with his old Tennessee philosophy on the matter. Mainly, Henry thought that a good neighbor doesn't stick his nose in his neighbor's business. Live and let live. However, if a neighbor asks you for help, you go out of your way to offer it.
A few winters ago Henry plowed my driveway when it was full of snow. I asked him how much I owed him. His answer was that he was being neighborly.
A few weeks later Henry called saying that he needed help with a project. When I finished it Henry in turn asked what he owed; I returned the same reply he had given me. Somehow hearing his own words drew a slight frown to his face; he was more comfortable offering help than receiving it.
Henry was a great poet and song writer. At a birthday party a few years ago my wife and Henry's relatives and friends all joined in to sing some of the songs he had written.
My friendship with John Kiernan often resembled a scene from the “Odd Couple.” We played tennis together for several years. He thoroughly enjoyed the game, though I suspect he was a better basketball player than a tennis player. I never questioned his close line calls, him being a priest and all. John usually had a good sense of humor unless he was behind in a match.
One hot summer day we were playing tennis at the Palisade courts. John was behind in the score. I looked up to the Bookcliffs and pointed out that the Boy Scouts climbed to the top every year to replace the worn flag with a new one. Joking around, I squinted toward the Bookcliffs and said it seemed silly to go to all that effort to put up an outdated flag with only 48 stars. I'm not sure what John thought about my claims of superior eyesight.
John served in World War II, enduring harsh conditions and the loss of friends while on the Aleutian Islands. He never said much about that war, a tendency we've seen among other veterans.
John was, however, passionate in his opposition to the war in Iraq. Usually I tried to steer clear of the subject. One day, though, John was playing tennis at the courts at Mesa State College when I arrived.
After we exchanged pleasantries, I told John that I had been trying to get hold of him for the last few days. He asked what I needed. I said that since he had been protesting the war in Iraq, I wanted to join him in protesting American involvement in Kosovo. We got a little heated. But we both chuckled about it the next time we met, realizing we had cleared the courts around us.
We also discussed religion. I found John's views of abortion interesting; he said that some in the priesthood believed that life (in the relevant sense) didn't start until the zygote attached to the womb of the mother.
We had long and ongoing debates on the merits of Aristotle versus Socrates. I claimed that his preference for Socrates had more to do with his church's history than with the relative merits of Aristotle.
No matter what our disagreements were, I was able to call on John on several occasions to ask him to help someone who was down and out. He was always there to help.
Chuck Wagner was my most fun neighbor. Who else would pull his Gatling gun out of storage and invite neighbors to shoot off a few rounds? For knowledge of firearms, Chuck beat Google hands down. If you had an older firearm and needed information about it, Chuck had the answers.
Chuck's knowledge of military history surpassed that of my college history professors. Chuck loved to share his knowledge with students whenever invited into the classroom. He brought in real uniforms and historical firearms, and young people could touch and feel real history.
For a number of years Chuck's constant companion was Willie, a black and white dog. Often Chuck drove down the highway with Willie sitting next to him, prompting some ribbing. Some said Chuck should have blamed Willie for a fender bender, but Chuck wouldn't hear of it.
Maybe it's just me, but it seems that old Garfield looks a little sadder lately as he keeps watch over the valley.
Linn Armstrong is a local political activist and firearms instructor with the Grand Valley Training Club. His son, Ari, edits FreeColorado.com from the Denver area.
