Le Morte de Gerard

[gerardcarey]

“G’day Old Man,” said The Dylster.
That’s what he calls me.
Not the way a son is supposed to address his father is it?
A little respect wouldn't go astray.
But I’ve given up complaining.
Doesn’t get you anywhere does it?

“You leaving today eh?” he asked.
“Yeah. Off again. Just rang to say goodbye. Sci-Fi suggested I stay my last night with them, as it would then be easier for them to drive me to the airport." (Sci-Fi is The Dylster’s older brother)
“Good idea,” The Dylster replied.
“No. It was a trap.”
“What are...you on about now?” he enquired.

“Well, last night we had a nice farewell family dinner with Helen and the children, but, after the children went to bed, the pair of them bailed me up.”
“Show us your tickets,” they demanded, “we never know where you are, and you only keep in contact now and then, and we worry about you.”
“Mate! Here’s me thinking I was just living my life as I see fit at the time, like...cruising.
Why would anyone worry about me?”
“Got me beat,” replied The Dylster.

“So anyway, I showed them my tickets, drew up a rough itinerary, and sort of promised to try and keep in contact more regularly.”
“So all good then?” he asked.
“No! Then they wanted to see my insurance. I hadn’t bought any. But I wasn’t going to tell them that. Told them it was none of their business, and that anyway I would be travelling on my EU (Irish) passport and that I’d be covered by an EU inter-country agreement.
But they knew I was talking rubbish.
They said they wouldn’t take me to the airport unless I sat down, right then, at the computer, to which they pointed in unison, and bought insurance.
So I had to. Cost me a fortune.
Mate! As you can understand I was feeling a bit brow-beaten, so I decided to try and regain some of my lost dignity.”
“Oh no,” said The Dylster, “that sounds like a mistake.”
“Went on the offensive, didn’t I. As regards insurance I demanded they now follow my wishes to the letter if the very worst happened, and I kicked the bucket while on Camino. They begrudgingly agreed, before they knew the details. Always a mistake that is.”

“I told them that whatever the circumstances were regarding my unfortunate demise, under no circumstances was my body to be returned home to the antipodes, that I had no wish for anyone to spend 20 or 30 thousand dollars to get me transported back home, where remarkably few people would gather to farewell me, after which I would be sealed up and shipped to the outer suburbs, to some nondescript corner of some nondescript graveyard, where an even fewer number of people, would deign to see me planted.”
“Mate!” I added, “what a waste of time and money that would be!”

Diverging here for a for a minute, what I used to think was that I'd like to be interred on the side of the Camino, where my unknown future pilgrim mates, would come walking by. I liked the thought that they’d be about, wandering past, that I'd be close to them in the long darkness.
I didn't want to be buried in a coffin.
Just wrapped in a sheet and slid into a hole somewhere along the edge of the Way. No plaque, no marker, no tombstone.
After all, I have no great opinion of myself.
I just consider myself a member of one of the more highly evolved species of mammal, to which no afterlife is endowed.
For me there is no after-death time and space, in which I will or want to be, kept amused and entertained, or, as some have gleefully proposed, eternally tortured.

So, just slide me in cobber.
Now I’ve eaten a lot of animals during my life and I also think it only fair that they get a chance to have a whack at me. The worms and their underground mates that is. That’s why no coffin.
Make yourself useful I reckon.
That was my plan.

But I’ve since changed my mind.
And this is what I told them I now want to happen.
What I want is to provide some limited sustenance to an endangered species.
That’ll be even more useful, right?
I want to be taken back to one of my favourite places in the world.
Take me back up into the high Pyrenees which I so love.
Somewhere like up there before Roncesvalles.
Strip all my clothing off, maybe leave my undies on for the sake of modesty, and then with a one, two, three…hoist me off a cliff.
Leave me there and go home.
Won’t be long before the Griffon vultures spot me and come spiralling down.
Reckon I’ll make a right tasty snack.
Specially if it’s winter and food is in short supply.
They’d enjoy that.
I like the thought of myself becoming part of my newly adopted species, soaring amongst the clouds and mists over that great countryside.

Gotta be better than being stuffed in a dark narrow box and lowered underground forever. Or winding up in a ziplock plastic bag as a pile of ash, to be eventually discarded, or at best planted under a rose bush.
Should be a law against those outcomes, as far as I’m concerned anyway.

The Dylster, in parting, wished me well.
As I knew he would be, he was quite amenable as to my new funerary arrangements.
More so than Sci-Fi and Helen had been.
From them I perceived only an air of hopelessness.
Still. They got their two requests.
I hope I get mine.

Later that day, along with the kids, they drove me out to the airport. Gave me heaps of hugs and kisses and handshakes, before sending me on my Way.
After this heartwarming departure, what a wonderfully interesting time I had for a few months, walking the Portuguese from Lisbon, then wandering around Europe.

Now I see the new year fast approaching.
As Willie this morning sang, so tunefully and eloquently, I, and perhaps you, will, in the not too distant future, be,
“On the Road Again.”
Like Willie, I just can’t wait.

Regards,
Gerard.
I'm a Portugeezer

To all my pilgrim mates, may I take this opportunity to wish you the compliments of the season, and, as I wish for myself, an exciting and adventurous New Year.

 

[Former member 49149]

Well, gerardcarey, like does not fit the bill. You have to be from near Blarney. It must be something in the water, affects a lot of Celts... a toast to the next Camino!

 

[Kiwi-family]

Mate, before you go traipsing off again, please write up a few more stories from 2017!

 

[nycwalking]

OP,
Your post was equal parts gloomy and gleeful.

Try no morte anytime soon.

Happy New Year!

 

[William Garza]

“G’day Old Man,” said The Dylster.
That’s what he calls me.
Not the way a son is supposed to address his father is it?
A little respect wouldn't go astray.
But I’ve given up complaining.
Doesn’t get you anywhere does it?

“You leaving today eh?” he asked.
“Yeah. Off again. Just rang to say goodbye. Sci-Fi suggested I stay my last night with them, so they could then drive me out to the airport. (Sci-Fi is The Dylster’s older brother)
“Good idea,” The Dylster replied.
“No. It was a trap.”
“What ARE you on about now?” he enquired.

“Well, last night we had a nice family dinner with Helen and the kids, but, after the kids were put to bed, the pair of them bailed me up.”
“Show us your tickets,” they demanded, “we never know where you are, and you only keep in contact now and then, and we worry about you.”
“Mate! Apparently I show an astounding lack of consideration for my family, when, to use their terminology, I go ‘traipsing’ abroad.
And here’s me thinking I was just living my life as I see fit at the time, like...cruising.
Why would anyone worry about me?”
“Got me beat,” replied The Dylster.

“So anyway, I showed them my tickets, drew up a rough itinerary, and sort of promised to try and keep in contact more regularly.”
“So all good then?” he asked.
“No! Then they wanted to see my insurance. I hadn’t bought any. But I wasn’t going to tell them that. Told them it was none of their business, and that anyway I would be travelling on my EU (Irish) passport and that I’d be covered by an EU inter-country agreement.
But they knew I was talking rubbish.
They said they wouldn’t take me to the airport unless I sat down, right then at the computer, to which they pointed in unison, and bought insurance.
So I had to. Cost me a fortune.
Mate! As you can understand I was feeling a bit brow-beaten, so I decided to try and regain some of my lost dignity.”
“Oh no,” said The Dylster, “that sounds like a mistake.”
“Went on the attack, didn’t I. As regards insurance I demanded they now follow my wishes to the letter if the very worst happened, and I kicked the bucket while on Camino. They begrudgingly agreed before they knew the details.
Always a mistake that is.”

“I told them that whatever the circumstances were regarding my unfortunate demise, under no circumstances was my body to be returned to Australia.
That I had no wish for anyone to spend 20 or 30 thousand dollars to get me transported back to Aussie, where remarkably few people would gather to farewell me, after which I would be sealed up and shipped to the outer suburbs, to some nondescript corner of some nondescript graveyard, where an even fewer number of people, would deign to see me planted.”
“Mate!” I added, “what a waste of time and money that would be!”

Diverging here for a for a minute, what I used to think was that I'd like to be interred on the side of the Camino, where my unknown future pilgrim mates, would come walking by. I liked the thought that they’d be about, wandering past, that I'd be close to them in the long darkness.
I didn't want to be buried in a coffin.
Just wrapped in a sheet and slid into a hole somewhere along the edge of the Way. No plaque, no marker, no tombstone.
After all, I have no great opinion of myself. I just consider myself a member of one of the slightly higher evolved species of mammal, to which no afterlife is endowed.
For me there is no after-death time and space in which I will, or want to be, kept amused and entertained, or, as some have gleefully proposed, eternally tortured.

So, just slide me in cobber.
Now I’ve eaten a lot of animals during my life and I also thought it only fair that they get a chance to have a whack at me. The worms and their underground mates that is. That’s why no coffin.
Make yourself useful I reckon.
That was my plan.

But I’ve since changed my mind.
And this is what I told them I now want to happen.
What I want is to provide some limited sustenance to an endangered species.
That’ll be even more useful, right?
I want to be taken back to one of my favourite places in the world.
Take me back up into the high Pyrenees which I so love.
Somewhere like up there before Roncesvalles.
Strip all my clothing off, maybe leave my undies on for the sake of modesty, and then with a one, two, three…hoist me off a cliff.
Leave me there and go home.
Won’t take long before the Griffon vultures spot me and come spiralling down.
Reckon I’d make a right tasty snack. Specially if it’s winter and food is in short supply.
They’d enjoy that.
I can see myself being part of my newly adopted species, soaring amongst the clouds and mists over that great countryside, without even having the ability to know it!

Gotta be better than being stuffed in a dark narrow box and lowered underground forever. Or winding up in a ziplock plastic bag as a pile of ash, to be eventually discarded, or at best planted under a rose bush.
Should be a law against those outcomes, as far as I’m concerned anyway.

The Dylster, in parting, wished me well.
As I knew he would be, he was quite amenable as to my new funerary arrangements.
More so than Sci-Fi and Helen had been.
From them I perceived only an air of hopelessness.
Still. They got their two requests.
I hope I get mine.

Later that day, along with the kids, they drove me out to the airport. Gave me heaps of hugs, kisses, and handshakes, and sent me on my Way.
After this heartwarming departure, what a wonderfully interesting time I had for several months, walking the Portuguese from Lisbon then wandering around Europe.

Now I see the new year fast approaching.
As Willie so tunefully and eloquently sings, I, and perhaps you, will, in the not too distant future, be,
“On the Road Again.”
Like Willie, I just can’t wait.

Regards,
Gerard.

To all my pilgrim mates, may I take this opportunity to wish you the compliments of the season, and, as I hope for myself, an exciting and adventurous New Year.

As they walk by..a small stone above the final sitting place ascribed...

Go Take the message to Santiago..Strangers passing by...

Here... Mr. Cary will abide

Obedient to the Laws of wander men he lies.

You sir should have..could have bee a,Spartan

 

[Purky]

Sky burial in the Pyrenees, I like it. The Tibetans seem to think it is the most generous way to dispose of your remains. One thing though: future aspiring candidates should lay off the Diclofenac, because that was the cause for the near-extinction of the South Asian vulture in recent years. And we wouldn't want that for the Griffon vulture. Memento mori, but also carpe diem and a perky New Year!

 

[VNwalking]

Such a good contemplation to end the year with, thank you Gerard! (Only partly kidding.)
And I might say, "Me too, please." As an ex-ornithologist, (and one is never really an ex-ornithologist), I've always thought a sky burial would be the ideal way to deal with what is left when everything physical grinds to a halt.

The thing is...in a sky burial the corpse gets dismantled, and then has to carry the bits up to wherever the birds hang out. I'd hate to impose that on friends. Besides the general yuck factor, I weigh a bit, after all.

 

[Camino Chrissy]

Yippee, another chapter for your book! Make sure you let us know when it is finished and available to purchase from Amazon.

 

[TaijiPilgrim]

“G’day Old Man,” said The Dylster.
That’s what he calls me.
Not the way a son is supposed to address his father is it?
A little respect wouldn't go astray.
But I’ve given up complaining.
Doesn’t get you anywhere does it?

“You leaving today eh?” he asked.
“Yeah. Off again. Just rang to say goodbye. Sci-Fi suggested I stay my last night with them, so they could then drive me out to the airport. (Sci-Fi is The Dylster’s older brother)
“Good idea,” The Dylster replied.
“No. It was a trap.”
“What ARE you on about now?” he enquired.

“Well, last night we had a nice family dinner with Helen and the kids, but, after the kids were put to bed, the pair of them bailed me up.”
“Show us your tickets,” they demanded, “we never know where you are, and you only keep in contact now and then, and we worry about you.”
“Mate! Apparently I show an astounding lack of consideration for my family, when, to use their terminology, I go ‘traipsing’ abroad.
And here’s me thinking I was just living my life as I see fit at the time, like...cruising.
Why would anyone worry about me?”
“Got me beat,” replied The Dylster.

“So anyway, I showed them my tickets, drew up a rough itinerary, and sort of promised to try and keep in contact more regularly.”
“So all good then?” he asked.
“No! Then they wanted to see my insurance. I hadn’t bought any. But I wasn’t going to tell them that. Told them it was none of their business, and that anyway I would be travelling on my EU (Irish) passport and that I’d be covered by an EU inter-country agreement.
But they knew I was talking rubbish.
They said they wouldn’t take me to the airport unless I sat down, right then, at the computer to which they pointed in unison, and bought insurance.
So I had to. Cost me a fortune.
Mate! As you can understand I was feeling a bit brow-beaten, so I decided to try and regain some of my lost dignity.”
“Oh no,” said The Dylster, “that sounds like a mistake.”
“Went on the attack, didn’t I. As regards insurance I demanded they now follow my wishes to the letter if the very worst happened, and I kicked the bucket while on Camino. They begrudgingly agreed before they knew the details.
Always a mistake that is.”

“I told them that whatever the circumstances were regarding my unfortunate demise, under no circumstances was my body to be returned to Australia.
That I had no wish for anyone to spend 20 or 30 thousand dollars to get me transported back to Aussie, where remarkably few people would gather to farewell me, after which I would be sealed up and shipped to the outer suburbs, to some nondescript corner of some nondescript graveyard, where an even fewer number of people, would deign to see me planted.”
“Mate!” I added, “what a waste of time and money that would be!”

Diverging here for a for a minute, what I used to think was that I'd like to be interred on the side of the Camino, where my unknown future pilgrim mates, would come walking by. I liked the thought that they’d be about, wandering past, that I'd be close to them in the long darkness.
I didn't want to be buried in a coffin.
Just wrapped in a sheet and slid into a hole somewhere along the edge of the Way. No plaque, no marker, no tombstone.
After all, I have no great opinion of myself. I just consider myself a member of one of the slightly higher evolved species of mammal, to which no afterlife is endowed.
For me there is no after-death time and space in which I will, or want to be, kept amused and entertained, or, as some have gleefully proposed, eternally tortured.

So, just slide me in cobber.
Now I’ve eaten a lot of animals during my life and I also thought it only fair that they get a chance to have a whack at me. The worms and their underground mates that is. That’s why no coffin.
Make yourself useful I reckon.
That was my plan.

But I’ve since changed my mind.
And this is what I told them I now want to happen.
What I want is to provide some limited sustenance to an endangered species.
That’ll be even more useful, right?
I want to be taken back to one of my favourite places in the world.
Take me back up into the high Pyrenees which I so love.
Somewhere like up there before Roncesvalles.
Strip all my clothing off, maybe leave my undies on for the sake of modesty, and then with a one, two, three…hoist me off a cliff.
Leave me there and go home.
Won’t take long before the Griffon vultures spot me and come spiralling down.
Reckon I’d make a right tasty snack. Specially if it’s winter and food is in short supply.
They’d enjoy that.
I can see myself being part of my newly adopted species, soaring amongst the clouds and mists over that great countryside, without even having the ability to know it!

Gotta be better than being stuffed in a dark narrow box and lowered underground forever. Or winding up in a ziplock plastic bag as a pile of ash, to be eventually discarded, or at best planted under a rose bush.
Should be a law against those outcomes, as far as I’m concerned anyway.

The Dylster, in parting, wished me well.
As I knew he would be, he was quite amenable as to my new funerary arrangements.
More so than Sci-Fi and Helen had been.
From them I perceived only an air of hopelessness.
Still. They got their two requests.
I hope I get mine.

Later that day, along with the kids, they drove me out to the airport. Gave me heaps of hugs, kisses, and handshakes, and sent me on my Way.
After this heartwarming departure, what a wonderfully interesting time I had for several months, walking the Portuguese from Lisbon, then wandering around Europe.

Now I see the new year fast approaching.
As Willie so tunefully and eloquently sings, I, and perhaps you, will, in the not too distant future, be,
“On the Road Again.”
Like Willie, I just can’t wait.

Regards,
Gerard.

To all my pilgrim mates, may I take this opportunity to wish you the compliments of the season, and, as I hope for myself, an exciting and adventurous New Year.

Thank you for another great story. May you write us many more in 2018. Buen camino!

 

[Icacos]

Another great story, Gerard. Thank you. My dad used to say that if there really is such a thing as reincarnation, he would like to come back as a vulture. Said they were a protected species and there would always be something to eat; at the time he didn't know about diclofenac. Now you are generously offering up your body as nourishment for these endangered species - good for you, I say.

Please keep writing your stories; may there be many more. Keep your stories in a safe place and do instruct that family of yours that they are to publish that book when your spirit is soaring with the vultures over our beloved Pyrenees.

 

[Bradypus]

the thing is...in a sky burial the corpse gets dismantled, and then has to carry the bits up to wherever the birds hang out. I'd hate to impose that on friends. Besides the general yuck factor, I weigh a bit, after all.

That's the Tibetan version. I believe Parsis lay bodies out whole for the vultures to deal with then gather up the leftovers after a year or two of being eaten and exposed to the elements. Not sure whether that has more or less of a yuck factor than the Tibetan style. A big problem now for Parsis in parts of India where vultures are almost extinct now. http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tower_of_Silence

 

[VNwalking]

Thank you for this tidbit of information, @Bradypus. Yeah, @gerardcarey . . . as others have said - if you want to offer a healthy meal to your feathered pals, you'd best lay off the diclofenac.
The world can be a strange and amazing place.

 

[Theatregal]

Gerard! A story to enjoy for the final morning of this year. I look forward to more in the new one. Happy New Year !

 

[gittiharre]

“G’day Old Man,” said The Dylster.
That’s what he calls me.
Not the way a son is supposed to address his father is it?
A little respect wouldn't go astray.
But I’ve given up complaining.
Doesn’t get you anywhere does it?

“You leaving today eh?” he asked.
“Yeah. Off again. Just rang to say goodbye. Sci-Fi suggested I stay my last night with them, so they could then drive me out to the airport. (Sci-Fi is The Dylster’s older brother)
“Good idea,” The Dylster replied.
“No. It was a trap.”
“What ARE you on about now?” he enquired.

“Well, last night we had a nice family dinner with Helen and the kids, but, after the kids were put to bed, the pair of them bailed me up.”
“Show us your tickets,” they demanded, “we never know where you are, and you only keep in contact now and then, and we worry about you.”
“Mate! Apparently I show an astounding lack of consideration for my family, when, to use their terminology, I go ‘traipsing’ abroad.
And here’s me thinking I was just living my life as I see fit at the time, like...cruising.
Why would anyone worry about me?”
“Got me beat,” replied The Dylster.

“So anyway, I showed them my tickets, drew up a rough itinerary, and sort of promised to try and keep in contact more regularly.”
“So all good then?” he asked.
“No! Then they wanted to see my insurance. I hadn’t bought any. But I wasn’t going to tell them that. Told them it was none of their business, and that anyway I would be travelling on my EU (Irish) passport and that I’d be covered by an EU inter-country agreement.
But they knew I was talking rubbish.
They said they wouldn’t take me to the airport unless I sat down, right then, at the computer to which they pointed in unison, and bought insurance.
So I had to. Cost me a fortune.
Mate! As you can understand I was feeling a bit brow-beaten, so I decided to try and regain some of my lost dignity.”
“Oh no,” said The Dylster, “that sounds like a mistake.”
“Went on the attack, didn’t I. As regards insurance I demanded they now follow my wishes to the letter if the very worst happened, and I kicked the bucket while on Camino. They begrudgingly agreed before they knew the details.
Always a mistake that is.”

“I told them that whatever the circumstances were regarding my unfortunate demise, under no circumstances was my body to be returned to Australia.
That I had no wish for anyone to spend 20 or 30 thousand dollars to get me transported back to Aussie, where remarkably few people would gather to farewell me, after which I would be sealed up and shipped to the outer suburbs, to some nondescript corner of some nondescript graveyard, where an even fewer number of people, would deign to see me planted.”
“Mate!” I added, “what a waste of time and money that would be!”

Diverging here for a for a minute, what I used to think was that I'd like to be interred on the side of the Camino, where my unknown future pilgrim mates, would come walking by. I liked the thought that they’d be about, wandering past, that I'd be close to them in the long darkness.
I didn't want to be buried in a coffin.
Just wrapped in a sheet and slid into a hole somewhere along the edge of the Way. No plaque, no marker, no tombstone.
After all, I have no great opinion of myself. I just consider myself a member of one of the slightly higher evolved species of mammal, to which no afterlife is endowed.
For me there is no after-death time and space in which I will, or want to be, kept amused and entertained, or, as some have gleefully proposed, eternally tortured.

So, just slide me in cobber.
Now I’ve eaten a lot of animals during my life and I also thought it only fair that they get a chance to have a whack at me. The worms and their underground mates that is. That’s why no coffin.
Make yourself useful I reckon.
That was my plan.

But I’ve since changed my mind.
And this is what I told them I now want to happen.
What I want is to provide some limited sustenance to an endangered species.
That’ll be even more useful, right?
I want to be taken back to one of my favourite places in the world.
Take me back up into the high Pyrenees which I so love.
Somewhere like up there before Roncesvalles.
Strip all my clothing off, maybe leave my undies on for the sake of modesty, and then with a one, two, three…hoist me off a cliff.
Leave me there and go home.
Won’t take long before the Griffon vultures spot me and come spiralling down.
Reckon I’d make a right tasty snack. Specially if it’s winter and food is in short supply.
They’d enjoy that.
I can see myself being part of my newly adopted species, soaring amongst the clouds and mists over that great countryside, without even having the ability to know it!

Gotta be better than being stuffed in a dark narrow box and lowered underground forever. Or winding up in a ziplock plastic bag as a pile of ash, to be eventually discarded, or at best planted under a rose bush.
Should be a law against those outcomes, as far as I’m concerned anyway.

The Dylster, in parting, wished me well.
As I knew he would be, he was quite amenable as to my new funerary arrangements.
More so than Sci-Fi and Helen had been.
From them I perceived only an air of hopelessness.
Still. They got their two requests.
I hope I get mine.

Later that day, along with the kids, they drove me out to the airport. Gave me heaps of hugs, kisses, and handshakes, and sent me on my Way.
After this heartwarming departure, what a wonderfully interesting time I had for several months, walking the Portuguese from Lisbon, then wandering around Europe.

Now I see the new year fast approaching.
As Willie so tunefully and eloquently sings, I, and perhaps you, will, in the not too distant future, be,
“On the Road Again.”
Like Willie, I just can’t wait.

Regards,
Gerard.

To all my pilgrim mates, may I take this opportunity to wish you the compliments of the season, and, as I hope for myself, an exciting and adventurous New Year.

Wonderful. Thank you!

 

[susanawee]

Mate, before you go traipsing off again, please write up a few more stories from 2017!

Yes, Iagree...the Pilgrim world is a better one that includes Geralds words....

 

[Icacos]

Please keep writing your stories; may there be many more. Keep your stories in a safe place and do instruct that family of yours that they are to publish that book when your spirit is soaring with the vultures over our beloved Pyrenees.

Better still, Gerard.......please, please include among your stories one about your instructing your family to publish your stories after you are gone.

 

[susanawee]

Well. I am certainly keeping Gerard's stories in a safe place......as has been my wont over the past years, I have copied out (often, by hand in the days before computers and when having no access to a typewriter) stories and poetry which has captured my eye and stirred my soul.....So dear Gerard, your stories live safely in one of my many notebooks and in one of my many computer files. Thankyou always.