Part 5In early times, when pandas still lived in the mountains of Tibet, the bears were white as snow. They were friends with four shepherd girls that took care of their sheep in the mountains nearby. While the shepherd girls were playing with a panda cub one day, a leopard suddenly leapt out from behind a rock and attacked the cub. The young girls, ever protective, threw themselves in front of the small bear to save it and were killed by the leopard. All the pandas were devastated by the girl’s deaths and held a ceremony to honor them for their bravery. As was the custom in Tibet, the pandas blackened their arms with ashes as a form of respect. As they wept for the girls and their ultimate sacrifice, they wiped their eyes with their paws, they covered their ears to block out the sound of the crying and they clung to each other in grief. As they did these things, the ash spread and blackened their fur. In honor of the girls, the pandas did not wash off their blackened fur. To this day, pandas are covered with the black markings to always remember. — From Tibetan Legend
From: Rob Carrigan
To: Rusty Hector
Sent: Friday, March 5, 2004
I know what you mean by articulation. I’m just trying to get some stuff on paper. I don’t know what will come of it.
Refresh my memory on “Mel, two pockets on a shirt are not cool.” I agree with you about the pith helmet. That kind of thing was typical. Bomber hat and goggles on his motorcycle, Orange Crush bandana under his football helmet, having to go home and change his shirt in sixth grade because it sported a cat in a glass jar and appeared with the caption “happiness is a tight pussy.” He did like to stand out.
— Rob.
From: Rusty Hector
To: Rob Carrigan
Sent: Friday, March 5, 2004
I remember the “good ass is hard to find” shirt that he wore under his shoulder pads. The pocket comment came in Durango one day when I was looking at shirts. I was considering a purchase of one that had two pockets.
From: Rob Carrigan
To: Rusty Hector
Sent: Monday, March 22, 2004
Rusty:
Scott talks about Lynn as “a person that I cared about not disappointing, … I looked up to him more than he ever knew.”
You say “he will always be with me, experiences, conversations, moments.”
Are you a religious man? The reason I ask is because, at times in the past few years (since his death), I have felt his presence. Like he was my own personal saint or guardian angel or something. I know how weird that sounds and maybe it is just intense memory or emotion. Whatever it is, it has helped me make some decisions. But also makes me creepily uncomfortable.
From: Rusty Hector
To: Rob Carrigan
Sent: Sunday, April 18
I have been pondering this for quite a while.
Wouldn’t say I was a religious man. To me, the term denotes tradition and repetition. I am a Christian, just trying to live my life ‘Christ like” and have a relationship with The Big Chief. I understand that Lynn also came to the saving grace… I think that he is now in the presence of the Lord, maybe even offering prayers on our behalves.
Perhaps the angel who is assigned to you is using memories of Lynn to help convey things in your spirit, so it would be in a way you understand. I draw comfort from his memory with the different decisions I’m faced with. Sometimes wondering (or hearing) the way I think he would have handled a situation. We all have the utmost respect for him. He just had that way about him. I’d call it “Quiet Confidence.” For those of us who loved him, it was the assurance of him knowing who he was and where he was headed.
Were your decisions good ones?
I still think about several things in my life where Lynn gave me advice. Sometimes, I was seeking it, and other times I wasn’t. Each time it seemed appropriate and it was never sugar coated, but I knew it was because he was trying to help me.
From: Carl Rice
To: Rob Carrigan
Sent: Monday, March 22, 2004
I could see those qualities in Lynn when he dealt with peers. I think is was partly because he had mastered the art of parenting while raising most of his family. He was like an adult in a very young body. He was always the perpetrator of calm and sense of direction. I remember the time I called a time-out in a crucial situation at the end of a game with Mancos. He came to the sidelines and I was going over options that were available for getting a first down on a third and 7. I was carrying on as only I could do and he said, “calm down coach, we will get it.” I said go get it done! He went back in and ran a dive for nine yards and a first down and that let us run out the clock. That intuition or confidence was amazing and yet at times when we were together alone, he seemed like a very small and helpless child. It was almost as if he thirsted for recognition that was not attached to responsibility. I remember when he graduated and we were shaking and grabbing kids. I walked up to him and just stared for a bit then simply hugged him and said I loved him. He broke into tears. I always wondered why that happened. He was however, easy to love as he was to respect. He was to me, the most precocious of a group of wise young men. He was special because of his awareness of the human condition and his willingness to look beyond the obvious. He was to me, both a son and friend, with full provisions of both.
From: Scott Weinmaster
To: Rob Carrigan
Sent: Sunday, March 28, 2004
Rob,
Sorry to get back so late but been a busy guy. Am i religious? i guess in a way. i don’t go to church or anything but i do pray, guess i got my own relationship with the big guy. i really haven't felt a presence of lynn or any of the people that i have lost, i guess i rely on me…
Not to say i don’t think about what some of them might think about my actions. But as always i make my own decisions … good and bad and i have made both. lol i do really hope that i will see them all again someday … but i guess i am a realist … this is what u got so deal with it… the only way i know how to live at this point in life. Live each day!! don’t know what’s in store tomorrow…
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