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@on the cusp
.
remember the title from my youth
but the video was definitely drug induced
may have to have another cup of joe
to comprehend the concept.
That reminds me of the weirdest scuba dive my wife and I ever did. We were diving Straggler's Rock off Red Hook in St. Thomas, and had finished up a nice, leisurely dive- we were hanging midwater at our 15-foot safety stop, just before getting back on the boat. The divemaster was below us at about 35 feet, gardening (picking up trash and beer bottles and the like to leave the site cleaner than we found it, as one does). He finned over to this odd bit of cardboard that was gently waving back and forth in the tidal surge, and pulled on it to put it in his trash bag- and a bunch of silt swirled up, along with a little piece of white paper, which he grabbed.
He looked at the paper for a second, and then he looked up at us with eyes like dinner plates: they completely filled his mask, like a minion. He waved us down semi-frantically, and my wife was off like a shot, kicking back down to see the show. She grabbed the paper, looked at it, and looked back at me with her eyes filling her mask like a minion. So I kicked down, and she handed it to me. I looked at it and it said "Cremated human remains: Joe Wickersham, born xxxx, died September 29, 2011, cremated October 3, 2011". Turns out that that big puff of silt we were all swimming in was actually Joe- in the ash, so to speak.
Being children of the digital age, we immediately Googled him when we got back on the boat. Turns out that he was a retired Navy diver, and had asked friends to scatter his ashes at sea. Well, being Navy people, they were all about economy of action: they hit the mooring ball at Straggler's, cracked open a couple of brews, and then kicked old Joe's cardboard box over the side along with their beer bottles, before heading back to the bar. They left the scattering part to the sea- and to us. We had arrived on the scene two weeks after the cremation, so the cardboard had just started coming apart.
Anyhoo, we rinsed our gear out *really* well after that dive, and I've never thought the same way about having "a cup o' Joe" since... (;-)
That reminds me of the weirdest scuba dive my wife and I ever did. We were diving Straggler's Rock off Red Hook in St. Thomas, and had finished up a nice, leisurely dive- we were hanging midwater at our 15-foot safety stop, just before getting back on the boat. The divemaster was below us at about 35 feet, gardening (picking up trash and beer bottles and the like to leave the site cleaner than we found it, as one does). He finned over to this odd bit of cardboard that was gently waving back and forth in the tidal surge, and pulled on it to put it in his trash bag- and a bunch of silt swirled up, along with a little piece of white paper, which he grabbed.
He looked at the paper for a second, and then he looked up at us with eyes like dinner plates: they completely filled his mask, like a minion. He waved us down semi-frantically, and my wife was off like a shot, kicking back down to see the show. She grabbed the paper, looked at it, and looked back at me with her eyes filling her mask like a minion. So I kicked down, and she handed it to me. I looked at it and it said "Cremated human remains: Joe Wickersham, born xxxx, died September 29, 2011, cremated October 3, 2011". Turns out that that big puff of silt we were all swimming in was actually Joe- in the ash, so to speak.
Being children of the digital age, we immediately Googled him when we got back on the boat. Turns out that he was a retired Navy diver, and had asked friends to scatter his ashes at sea. Well, being Navy people, they were all about economy of action: they hit the mooring ball at Straggler's, cracked open a couple of brews, and then kicked old Joe's cardboard box over the side along with their beer bottles, before heading back to the bar. They left the scattering part to the sea- and to us. We had arrived on the scene two weeks after the cremation, so the cardboard had just started coming apart.
Anyhoo, we rinsed our gear out *really* well after that dive, and I've never thought the same way about having "a cup o' Joe" since... (;-)
@usefewersyllables
.
your discovery sounds pretty cheap
remember getting my father is what
appeared to be a Chinese takee-outie box
and my sister in a ziplock baggie
guess it doesn't matter
what is done is done
the rest is just ashes
That reminds me of the weirdest scuba dive my wife and I ever did. We were diving Straggler's Rock off Red Hook in St. Thomas, and had finished up a nice, leisurely dive- we were hanging midwater at our 15-foot safety stop, just before getting back on the boat. The divemaster was below us at about 35 feet, gardening (picking up trash and beer bottles and the like to leave the site cleaner than we found it, as one does). He finned over to this odd bit of cardboard that was gently waving back and forth in the tidal surge, and pulled on it to put it in his trash bag- and a bunch of silt swirled up, along with a little piece of white paper, which he grabbed.
He looked at the paper for a second, and then he looked up at us with eyes like dinner plates: they completely filled his mask, like a minion. He waved us down semi-frantically, and my wife was off like a shot, kicking back down to see the show. She grabbed the paper, looked at it, and looked back at me with her eyes filling her mask like a minion. So I kicked down, and she handed it to me. I looked at it and it said "Cremated human remains: Joe Wickersham, born xxxx, died September 29, 2011, cremated October 3, 2011". Turns out that that big puff of silt we were all swimming in was actually Joe- in the ash, so to speak.
Being children of the digital age, we immediately Googled him when we got back on the boat. Turns out that he was a retired Navy diver, and had asked friends to scatter his ashes at sea. Well, being Navy people, they were all about economy of action: they hit the mooring ball at Straggler's, cracked open a couple of brews, and then kicked old Joe's cardboard box over the side along with their beer bottles, before heading back to the bar. They left the scattering part to the sea- and to us. We had arrived on the scene two weeks after the cremation, so the cardboard had just started coming apart.
Anyhoo, we rinsed our gear out *really* well after that dive, and I've never thought the same way about having "a cup o' Joe" since... (;-)
Ol' Joe had opted for the takeout-container-equivalent. Very cost-effective.
My parents are still in their baggies on my sister's mantelpiece, to the best of my knowledge- which means that I'll inherit them when she goes, if she's first.
I'm opting for getting mixed into the concrete to make the anchor for a mooring ball, somewhere down island, if I have a choice. Bequia or Carriacou would do nicely, or maybe even somewhere in the middle of the Tobago Cays. I've got a soft spot in my head for Petit Tabac..
#2.1.1
.
your discovery sounds pretty cheap
remember getting my father is what
appeared to be a Chinese takee-outie box
and my sister in a ziplock baggie
guess it doesn't matter
what is done is done
the rest is just ashes
Comments
Just some fun stuff
.
as a filler
Zionism is a social disease
Good morning, Cap'n!
"We'll know our disinformation program is complete when everything the American public believes is false." ---- William Casey, CIA Director, 1981
Ha Ha
.
remember the title from my youth
but the video was definitely drug induced
may have to have another cup of joe
to comprehend the concept.
Zionism is a social disease
Cup o' Joe...
That reminds me of the weirdest scuba dive my wife and I ever did. We were diving Straggler's Rock off Red Hook in St. Thomas, and had finished up a nice, leisurely dive- we were hanging midwater at our 15-foot safety stop, just before getting back on the boat. The divemaster was below us at about 35 feet, gardening (picking up trash and beer bottles and the like to leave the site cleaner than we found it, as one does). He finned over to this odd bit of cardboard that was gently waving back and forth in the tidal surge, and pulled on it to put it in his trash bag- and a bunch of silt swirled up, along with a little piece of white paper, which he grabbed.
He looked at the paper for a second, and then he looked up at us with eyes like dinner plates: they completely filled his mask, like a minion. He waved us down semi-frantically, and my wife was off like a shot, kicking back down to see the show. She grabbed the paper, looked at it, and looked back at me with her eyes filling her mask like a minion. So I kicked down, and she handed it to me. I looked at it and it said "Cremated human remains: Joe Wickersham, born xxxx, died September 29, 2011, cremated October 3, 2011". Turns out that that big puff of silt we were all swimming in was actually Joe- in the ash, so to speak.
Being children of the digital age, we immediately Googled him when we got back on the boat. Turns out that he was a retired Navy diver, and had asked friends to scatter his ashes at sea. Well, being Navy people, they were all about economy of action: they hit the mooring ball at Straggler's, cracked open a couple of brews, and then kicked old Joe's cardboard box over the side along with their beer bottles, before heading back to the bar. They left the scattering part to the sea- and to us. We had arrived on the scene two weeks after the cremation, so the cardboard had just started coming apart.
Anyhoo, we rinsed our gear out *really* well after that dive, and I've never thought the same way about having "a cup o' Joe" since... (;-)
https://www.thereporteronline.com/obituaries/joseph-t-wickersham-north-w...
Twice bitten, permanently shy.
interesting story
.
funny what one finds while getting
under the surface
Hey Joe comes to mind
Zionism is a social disease
Burial containers
.
your discovery sounds pretty cheap
remember getting my father is what
appeared to be a Chinese takee-outie box
and my sister in a ziplock baggie
guess it doesn't matter
what is done is done
the rest is just ashes
Zionism is a social disease
Yeah, apparently
Ol' Joe had opted for the takeout-container-equivalent. Very cost-effective.
My parents are still in their baggies on my sister's mantelpiece, to the best of my knowledge- which means that I'll inherit them when she goes, if she's first.
I'm opting for getting mixed into the concrete to make the anchor for a mooring ball, somewhere down island, if I have a choice. Bequia or Carriacou would do nicely, or maybe even somewhere in the middle of the Tobago Cays. I've got a soft spot in my head for Petit Tabac..
Twice bitten, permanently shy.
Thanks Cap'n
That was fun.
Late 50s IIRC?
Neither Russia nor China is our enemy.
Neither Iran nor Venezuela are threatening America.
Cuba is a dead horse, stop beating it.
Yes, believe you are correct
.
'58 / '59 vintage
I think.
Zionism is a social disease
Ahh, the age of hoola hoops
and nickel candy bars.
Neither Russia nor China is our enemy.
Neither Iran nor Venezuela are threatening America.
Cuba is a dead horse, stop beating it.