(Editor's Note: The following is from Ken Beaton of Carson City about the death of his friend Bob Thomas, who died Saturday. Funeral arrangements are pending. Thomas was a retired high-tech industrialist who served on the Carson City School Board, Nevada Welfare Board and Carson City Airport Authority and was a state Assemblyman. He also wrote a column for the Nevada Appeal.)
The word last leaves a bad taste in my mouth. One exception is after an intense workout our aerobics instructor says, “This is the last exercise before we stretch and leave for the day.”
On June 26, 2012 a television network aired one of Nora Ephron’s interviews. She shared a friend’s question, “What would you eat for your last meal?” Nora named her choice. Her friend responded, “Because of my throat cancer I can’t eat what I would like for my last meal.” Nora suggested, “The time to have your last meal is before it is your last meal.”
Nora’s statement requires tweaking. What about the last time you see someone? Think of all the people who said, “See you this evening,” the morning of September 11, 2001. That was the last time 3,000 loved ones were seen.
Bob Thomas had lung issues similar to my best friend of 61 years, Al Casey. Al’s last seven years had made me more observant regarding his breathing, the color of his skin and his facial expressions. Unfortunately, Al passed away December 30, 2012. The next time Bob and I met for coffee I observed subtle similarities.
July 30, 2013 Forrest Lorz, the publisher of Bob’s book and my book, treated Ingrid Thomas, Lucy Lorz, and me to lunch. Our food was tasty, but our conversation was better. Bob and Ingrid left for an appointment. Forrest, Lucy and I met with for another hour.
Returning home, I recalled Bob’s skin coloring was not quite the same as before. Oh, I’ll email him in a couple of weeks to see if he is up to having coffee. Two weeks would have been August 13th.
Monday morning, August 12, 2013, Pedra, one of Bob’s nieces, approached me as we returned our hand weights after exercise class. Her eyes began to glisten.
“My Uncle Bob Thomas died Saturday night, the 10th.”
“WHAT, what happened??” was my knee jerk reaction.
“He ate dinner with Ingrid and another person. After their meal they were leaving the dining room when he collapsed and died.”
Reflecting, I think Bob knew. He stopped writing his column in the Appeal. The world’s problems were not part of our lunch conversation. Bob was at peace.
For my next last time, I hope I am better connecting the dots.
— Writer Ken Beaton lives in Carson City