A PROMISE MADE IS A DEBT UNPAID
I first met Fred or Fritz about several ago in Anchorage Alaska. Carole and I had just completed a grueling flight from Savannah, Ga to Anchorage by way of Minneapolis and had just departed the plane and were headed to the luggage area when we noticed a gray haired guy in jeans milling about the gate apparently waiting for a passenger. He was wearing boots, a plaid shirt, and a leather vest. He also had a hunting knife dangling from his belt as well as a pistol holstered under his vest. His hair was a little messy but what really caught my eye was his gray braided beard. I nudged Carole and said, look at that guy. She turned and looked then rolled her eyes and replied thats him, my brother Fred. What are we in for?
I thought to myself, a biker? No it couldn’t be. From what I knew about Fred he was an extreme intellectual who had been employed by the state of Alaska to work with the emotionally disabled adolescents. Actually I thought he had his doctorate and I knew he was retired. Turns out he was a true individualist and had gone full Alaskan or at least looked that way.
I first met Carole several years earlier in Dalton, Ga. She was not a native being relocated there from Wheeling, West Virginia with her family while in high school. A mutual friend, Rod had introduced us and we immediately hit it off. I had recently retired and moved to Atlanta. We dated for a few months and the ninety mile trips back and forth was beginning to get kind of old so I asked Carole if she would like to live with me in Atlanta. The decision was made immediately in favor of my proposal.
While dating we had the opportunity to examine each other’s background. I was a bit more known quantity than Carole because of my visibility. I was well know because I was a mill owner and had married and divorced a Dalton girl. I knew she had a older brother who was well known around town and now lived in Alaska. ?I found out about her parents and ex husband. Funny, she worked for the Juvenile Court while the woman I dated before I met her I had spirited away from the local sheriff. Dalton was certainly a small town.
After we were together for awhile Carole started to receive cartons in the mail from her brother. The contents which were really strange. Anything from magazines and books to gourmet spices, chop sticks, assorted collectibles, restaurant menus and mostly assorted crap. Seldom did they contain a letter. Just the package. Carole would just laugh and say more junk from my brother Fred. He is a kook, wait till you meet him.
Over the course of a couple of years I would speak to Fred over the phone about once a month. He was fun to chat with and very engaging. Whenever he called he called himself Fritz. I liked Fred better. Carole must have told him about me because he knew things about me. He became a true fan of mine. Carole probably told him that I knew several pro football players because he thought I had a close relationship with Larry Csonka who happened to live nearby him in Alaska. I met Larry at some functions but he was hardly a close friend. They often fished for Halibut together. I suppose that gave him special status. He told me once that Larry asked him to say hello. Hi Csonk.
Carole told me a lot about Fred. He was well known around Dalton as being a hot head. For a time he dated my friend Rod’s wife and even had her as a guest for a couple of weeks to Alaska for an extended camping trip off the grid.
Prior to retirement Fred lived with two children who were wards of the state. He lived in a house that he built by himself located in a small town just north of Wassila called big lake. Carole visited Fred three or four times over the years I think more out of curiosity than anything else but I think she really loved and cared for him.
Carole introduced us. I couldn’t take my eyes off his braided beard. Had Fred been a little taller with more presence I would have thought him a menacing figure. I will admit that after awhile I thought he looked the part of a real mountain man. Turns out he wasn’t. The entire outfit was a facade for a very intelligent and great guy. Almost a hippy.
For over a week we had a fabulous time. We spent most of our time bouncing between Anchorage and Big Lake. We basically hung out and saw pretty much everything there was to see. It was interesting to witness how many people around Anchorage knew Fred. He was a popular guy around town. Also, Fred worked at his fiancé’s Greenhouse business near the University. It was the largest privately owned green house in Anchorage. No, they did not grow dope at least not while we were there. As a trick Fred booked us into the most haunted hotel in Anchorage for a couple of nights. A story for another time.
Our journey turned out great. Without Fred it would have been just OK but with lhis presence it was very special. Most of all for me I became very close with Fred. We bonded better than brothers. I found him to be the salt of the earth and to be one of the most engaging and interesting people I have ever known. When we departed I never realized it would be the last time I would ever see him. I know Carole’s opinion of her brother really changed for the better over our short visit.
Well, years went by and we stayed in touch and the packages kept coming. We once received a Fed Ex package containing thirty five pounds of freshly caught halibut.
One day my daughter and her husband decided to make a trip to Alaska by way of their RV. I inquired about their itinerary and was glad they included Anchorage. While traveling through Alaska they found the roads were very rough in spots and it was impossible to make time without hurting your vehicle. As they approached Anchorage they damaged the RV suspension. The only nearby repair shop was in Wasilla, one town away fro Fred in Big Lake. They were stuck big time and there was no telling how long they would be there. When we received there SOS email we reminded them of our relative Fred in Big Lake. Lucky for them.
We called Fred and told him about the kid’s predicament. He was delighted to be called upon for assistance. Fred came to the rescue and gave them food and lodging for several days. During the visit Fred gave them the full treatment. He took them all around town and showed them off to all of his friend. They became real buds and by the time they parted they were calling him affectionately Uncle Fred.
During their time together Fred asked them for a special favor. He wanted them to know that when he died he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes to be buried with his folks in the military cemetery located in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Allison promised and was put in charge since she attended college at University of Tennessee, Chattanooga and new her way around.
Well, the day finally came. We received the call from Fred’s wife Patsy. Fred died suddenly of a heart attack. Through the tears and all, she referred to Fred’s instructions to Allison. Patsy was going to have Fred cremated and have the ashes sent to us for burial in Chattanooga.
We contacted Allison and gave her the bad news and Allison recalled her promise to Uncle Fred so the plans began. The next day Carole called the Military Cemetery In Chattanooga for instructions. She was told the service and internment were not possible. The only burials were for veterans and their spouses. Not their children. As a matter of fact even burying something as small as an urn was a federal offense punishable by incarceration. She was also told there were no guards at the cemetery on Sundays. All the wheels started turning. Plans were made.
A few days later we received a package from Patsy with three containers of Fred’s ashes. There were two small woodenboxes and one small urn. One part for Allison and Alan, one for us and the last to be buried at the cemetery.
Carole contacted Allison, her son David from Rome, Ga. and my buddy Osbourn from East Ridge, Tennessee. A date was set and all of us were to gather at the gravesite on the Sunday two weeks in the future. With all of us including David’s family we had a good size crowd. Since there were no guards on duty we thought we could find a way to bury Fred without getting caught. We could not break a promise.
Alan, our son in law, made reservations for both and our RVs at a nearby campground for the night since we were the furthest away.
The next morning we all gathered at the folks gravesite. After carefully scanning the lay of the land we planed an impromptu funeral. We tightened up the group close to the monument and all held hands. Allison knelt in the center between the group and monument, small garden shovel in hand and dug a small hole while meticulously removing a section of turf to be returned in order to hide this illegal deed. One of us said a prayer. Actually it was very touching and sweet ceremony. After making sure there was no sign of disturbing the grass we disbanded and headed to Provinos for a toast to Fred and lunch. How cool and Fred like could it get.
Now let’s talk about the title.
Many years ago I started to memorize extraordinary sayings I have heard along the way. One of my favorites is “measure twice, cut once”. Very appropriate for my line of work.
At one time I became interested in the works of Robert Service. Service wrote stories and poetry about the Yukon and north country. One of my favorites is The Cremation of Same McGee. One of the most meaning lines is “a promise made, is a debt unpaid”. I have lived by those words ever since I first read them. Sometimes I fail but not very often. They are always on my mind.
In the case of my brother in law Fred these words were extremely appropriate. Fred being from the north country and my daughter by living up to her promise. I guess my daughter Allison has learned something from me. A chip off the old block.
Someday you should read the poem. It is very good and entertaining. Well worth the effort.
