Rest in Peace, King of Battles.
For those who did not see Mason’s note and dedication on the Stupid People of the Week post, our community is a littler poorer today. TAH Admins received the news that KoB passed away. Several felt KoB deserves his own post, a sentiment I share. But how do we do that?
How do we mourn and grieve someone we never met in person, may have never communicated directly with except online, and via pseudonyms at that? This is a stranger with whom we shared commentary, and knew well enough to accurately predict how they would react or respond to a given situation or statement. But, this was a stranger whom in truth we could pass on the street without recognition.
When you first stumbled across this site and perhaps were moved to join in the commentary, would you have believed you could come to care for the well-being of a stranger who’s name you didn’t know? Sure, they have a pseudonym, self-selected to reflect a meaning you may decode due to similar life experiences. But, if you saw their name in a news article or obituary, would you recognize that name as the person with whom you exchanged barbs, quips, jokes, and opinions?
Grief is uniquely personal. But this is a new type of grief, I believe, in the course of human history. Many people feel a sense of loss when a beloved celebrity, artist, or public person dies even though they probably never met them, never came closer than a concert seat or being a face in a crowd. Likewise, mostly in times long past, written word correspondences were had between those who would never meet but with whom a mutual interest or connection was held. But this is different.
This is not like a social media acquaintanceship either. These are people with whom we are connected, usually through a mutual friend, and peripherally interact but have never met in person. But, we at least know their name and face, and maybe a little something about their family, where they live or work. We may never meet, but at least we know someone, in real life, who has interacted with them, in real life.
This feels different, and a maybe a little strange and even presumptuous, as if in the expression of our grief we are appropriating sentiments to which we are not entitled. If we never met someone in person, didn’t even know the name under which they were born or buried, does that mean we cannot grieve the loss?
I never had the good fortune to meet KoB, our King of Battles, the inimical Gun Bunny, in person. Yes, I know the name that will be inscribed on his headstone, as he knew what will be on mine. And there is a real-world connection in that he impacted my life.
When I reflected on or responded directly to something he wrote, my physical being was engaged. In this sense, each of us is as real to each other in this artificial world of zeros and ones as are those with whom we share our homes, workplaces and daily lives. And I came to know him, or at least, some things about him.
I know he loved cooking, or perhaps more accurately stated, eating Southern Comfort foods. From him I learned what a cathead biscuit is, as well as a lot of creative names for various meats one may find in a stew pot, in a smoker, or on a grill. I already knew that iced tea made with simple syrup is called Sweet Tea, and is also called House Wine in many southern homes. But I will never again hear the term without thinking of KoB.
I know he had very un-PC comments for the scantily clad women that accompany many of the articles here, yet also believed he was a genuine, old-fashioned Southern Gentleman. If, for example, someone was cad enough to cross the line and direct the type of comments he regularly made here to a female in real life, they would receive …an education… on how to talk to a lady.
I know KoB was a true patriot, a feeling exceeded only by his deep and abiding faith in his Lord and Creator. To KoB, belief in the goodness and rightness of the ideals of the country to which he once swore an oath of fealty was unshakeable. KoB is one of the many whom I imagine standing tall, nodding, ready for battle, when the quote “America is worth fighting for, even when She’s wrong” crosses my mind.
Because of these and a thousand other thoughts, I grieve the passing of KoB. My act of mourning is this, sharing my thoughts and memories with the TAH community. This grief is about me, yes, as grief is always about each of us. Sharing in mourning is how we make grief softer and more gentle, two sentiments that unironically come to mind when I think of the heart of the man we knew as KoB.
Rest in Peace, kind sir. May God hold your family and loved ones in the palm of His hand. My deepest condolences to your family, and to all who will never forget our own King of Battles.
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Didn’t see this until now.
A one-word salute:
PREPARE!
Damn, I’m so sorry to hear this — my heart goes out to his family and friends.
By them we live,
For them we would die.
Whatever the Mission,
We’ll give it a try.
We’ll serve them with Honor
For they are the ones that make us, Artillerymen.
So here’s to the King Of Battle:
“TO THE GUNS!”
Damn it, Reb. I wasn’t done with you yet!!
I’ll be at this (far, far) North Wall until relieved. You have my word on that, Sir.
See you soon my friend, God willing. I’ll bring up some ceegars and other paraphernalia, just tap the all clear so’s I can toss’um of the Pearly Door.
May comfort find us all.
God be with you and your family KoB. Rest in peace brother.
I’m the Gun Bunny’s daughter. I have been planning to come say something for a while but I couldn’t bring myself to until today. But reading your thoughts and comments has been bittersweet as I knew it would be. This group was incredibly important to him. He would talk about many of you on a regular basis. He had so much respect for the people here and especially the mission of the group. Never forget the impact you can have on a stranger behind the screens. The bonds forged are very real. I appreciate all of you for what you added to his life. He was an incredible person. Not perfect by any means but definitely perfect to me. I can’t imagine choosing a better father for myself. I always knew I was loved. He always had my back, even when I was wrong, I wasn’t alone. Letting him go was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and sometimes I worry I will always live under a fog of grief. But I know I am very blessed to have had 45 years with him. So I can’t even be upset at the sadness because it meant I got to experience the purest, truest love created.
Sorry for the rambling. It tends to happen when I try to express myself regarding my dad. I just wanted yall to know that you meant something to him.
You ramble all you want, Sugar. Your dad was a very good man and someone I’m honored to have known. We never met, but he took to calling me “little brother” and it fit just right. He was a big brother to me, a mentor to us all, and I really miss him. Don’t be a stranger to these parts, you’re family.
We loved him here as well. Don’t be a stranger, feel free to come here any time you want and say what’s on your mind, you’re welcome here!
He will be missed much.
Thank you for reaching out and sharing.
It was a great honor to call him Brother.
The saddest part about getting older isn’t that my body doesn’t work like it used, it’s all the goddamn goodbyes that go with it…
Me popping in and out lately I missed this post, saw something that had me search for it and now it’s an even drearier Friday than the clouds outside had created.
Rest in Peace good sir…