Thomas J. Poulton

A Certain Amount of Planning

E OF US, we are told, is capable of more than we can imagine. Maybe even more than anyone else can imagine. Dreams— hopes and beliefs for tomorrow—accomplish the impossible. Al was 84 years old when he died yesterday. World War II veteran (got seasick standing watch in a crow’s nest 80 feet above the main deck, vomited on someone standing fire watch below). Master woodworker (he’s the guy who made the hand-turned walnut baptismal font and those soaring chandeliers for the church sanctuary). Retired contracts administrator for Goodyear (kept all eight of his five-year service pins neatly lined up in a small box in the top drawer of his dresser). Cantankerous neighbor (“biggest jerk in Jackson County” according to a guy down the street who may have been in a position to know).