To bring everyone up to (my) date at once rather than multiple asymmetric (and unsatisfying given the state of my Mayflower Edition phone) calls, and to solidify my thoughts after a whirlwind trip in and out of Utah which included late nights, early mornings, dozens of snatches of conversations, and long airport layovers, I offer a
REPORT FROM SLC.
First, I want to put your minds at rest concerning that which everyone was not worried: Cody represented you all wonderfully, and his presence was appreciated not only by Sarah and me, but your cousins and the once-removeds. Thank you Cody, you have always been able to see Sarah’s needs and give support that I miss providing.
Second, Sarah needs to speak for herself, but I am sure she is in a better place after the viewing, the funeral, the trip to David’s apartment, the reception, the pictures, the conversations, the discussions and remembrances.
Third, the events of the death, reconstructed: David lived in a third floor apartment, next to a utility closet which housed a water heater and a trapdoor in its ceiling into an attic, which in turn contained a ladder leading to access to the roof. David had only to place a stool next to the water heater, place an aluminum ramp he used to load motorcycles into the back of pickups (6 1/2’ tall with cross bars useful as ladder rungs when placed vertically) on top of the stool, put a chair next to that to be able to climb onto the stool to ascend the ramp/ladder, crawl through the trap door, up the fixed ladder of the attic, and out onto the roof. Nothing to it.
There was a meteor shower that night, duly announced in the newspaper, and David had binoculars, camera, etc. to enjoy the show from the good vantage of the roof unencumbered at treetop level. Not many people have David’s combination of Rube Goldberg skills and dim warning lights to have pulled that off. Once on the roof things went bad. As everything else was in a nook at the crown of the roof, and his camera is in the gutter, it is reasonable to reconstruct the scenario: the camera slid down the raised seam metal roof into the gutter, David, wearing some non-non-skid footwear went after it, became unbalanced or slid, and fell off.
Fourth, let me say at this point that Sarah long ago quit cleaning gutters, and this year convinced me to do the same; however, standing at the spot he fell, being told that a) the police, who wanted the camera to see what he was shooting from the roof but unwilling to go get it themselves, and 2) they had called the fire department, who, not being able to get at the gutter from the truck due to a fence, were also unwilling to go out on the roof, I looked at the height ( only maybe five feet higher than places on my roof), and the pitch (4/12, same as mine), and the raised seam roof (ditto), and was thinking “That’s not so bad, I do (did) that all the time, I’ll go get that camera”.
I hesitated because 1) I was wearing slick shoes and my only suit, and b) Sarah and Cody were standing right there. So, the camera in still in the gutter, and a good camera too, I’ll bet.
The whole picture wasn’t as foreign as I had expected, not at all.
Fifth, my mind’s picture of Jennifer Bone Hannah is a 12-14 year old sitting on Johnny’s porch in Glenwood Springs one evening discussing religion. I don’t see her much and that image has never really been updated, but of course, everything else has moved on—the house is Deshea’s now—so I was mildly shocked the young girl standing in front of a full church (David had started going to church, although I doubt he had fully become a Methodist Mormon), magnificently giving a very complicated eulogy that was part remembrance, part explanation (she did not gloss over David’s addiction for speed and risk taking; Johnny said the car outside the apartment was turbo charged, had racing brakes, and David would hit 150 MPH down the interstate), and a good bit catharsis for her.
She did mention that she thought things worsened after Mrs. Bone’s death. You will remember that Mrs. Bone had been ill and descending, we called Johnny and David in, they arrived Super Bowl Sunday, she perked up and walked upstairs to watch the game with her boys, and died happy that night. David was asleep on the floor in her room; she had rolled of the bed on top of him; he understandably but incorrectly second-guessed the events of the night.
Sophie Hannah (granddaughter) sang, Jimbo told a few stories and sang one of David’s favorites (Forever Young), David’s cousin Tom read scripture, and the pastor did his funeral thing. All was done well and to everyone’s benefit.
Sixth, the Mayflower died the death today and I was on call. After two hours (mostly standing), two stores, and two sore knees, I now have an iphone. Same number: 1.501.MUSHROOM.
Seventh, it seems that there was more I was going to share, but it was late last night when I started this post, so I went to bed. That didn't work. BB
