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Charlie

My husband's eldest cousin died, unexpectedly, this weekend. His body was discovered off Vashon Island in a kayak. We really don't know any details.

Charlie was not only a family member, but a friend. My husband logged many hours mountaineering on many of the peaks in Washington, and one in Oregon. Mount Rainier, Mount Baker, Mount St. Helens (before the eruption), and Mount Hood (if I'm remembering accurately), Along with Charlie and his brothers; Mike, Dan, Rick, and Ernie.

They sounded like a somewhat motley crew, climbing mountains on-the-cheap and whilst drinking Rainier Beer and smoking grass. Oh, and cousin Ernie was crazy (or more politically correct, mentally ill). It made for some hair-raising tales of adventure, not fit for publication by The Mountaineers. 

It should be known that the misadventures occurred when they were young and dumb. Charlie grew up to become a responsible adult, a single father of two sons, a respected electrical inspector, and a minister. My memories are more recent: Charlie introducing us to his new wife, Peggy; Charlie singing beautifully in his church's Christmas play; Charlie showing us photographs of their trip to Israel; Charlie and Peggy unexpectedly jogging by us as we visit the Des Moines pier. Good memories, every one.

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