Live long and prosper. Or, you know, rest in peace.
Uncle Ray loved Star Trek. I mean, for a guy that didn’t finish high school, he sure did love him some sci-fi. Maybe he couldn’t change the oil in his car, or even fix a flat, but if you ever needed to know how a warp-drive worked, he was your guy.
I remember the year that Aunt Gladys got him those tapes so that he could learn to speak Klingon. I thought he was going to herniate a tear duct. And the year that Gramma Jessie sewed him that Starfleet officer suit? Well, it didn’t matter to him that it was a little too short in the sleeves and pant legs, he wore it to work for three months straight.
For those three months, he was probably the snazziest-dressed sanitation worker in the greater Akron area. He was certainly the proudest.
I for one think that his losing all that weight during his long and painful fight with cancer is probably a blessing, because he’s going to be able to take that long trip into the unknown in his Starfleet uniform. Sure, it smells like rotten garbage, but that covers up the formaldehyde.
Which I’m personally grateful for.
