By Mick Holien Here we are sneaking past the summer solstice, the longest day of the year and already headed into the last week of June with the weather Gods teasing us as usual with a variety of conditions. I made it through the majority of last week wearing shorts but no worry I only went as far as the Vox driveway which is lengthy – actually a slight curve – to keep that spectacle from being seen by drivers on the dirt road out front. We have had as couple of recent military funerals of my neighbors that caused me pause. The pomp and circumstance involved in a military funeral allow of course time for pause and reflection and as a veteran myself I am always amazed at no just the spit and polish and coordination but also how squared away they looked in their Dress uniforms. Mine doesn’t fit quite that well. And there is just something about bagpipes being added to a service, as usual excellently performed by my friends Dick Bratton and Sandy Farrell, and for those who don’t realize it, the Martine Corps Hymn is quite difficult to play on the pipes and they pulled it off. And does anything give you a chill more than the playing of Amazing Grace fading out of the service to oblivion where it is distantly heard. But the point that caused me the most reflection was a notice in the paper advertising a huge estate sale next door to me next weekend. No matter how a life was lived, in one way or another, when you’re gone your life comes down to a bunch of people rummaging through things you acquired. Makes me recall an old statement of millionaire Malcolm Forbes that maybe rings true: “The one that dies with the most toys wins.” And certainly ever respectful in the death of Bill and Ed.