Transcript of Brett's Service

[dwenius]

[Seating Music: Orbital, “Halcyon +on +on”, from _Orbital II_]

Opening Comments [Al]:

Good afternoon. Thank you for your attendance today.

My name is Alan Huehn and as a friend of the Summers it is my privilege to lead us through this afternoon’s celebration of Brett’s life. Darrell and Sharon are pleased that so many of Brett’s friends were able to write and e-mail a few great memories of him that will be shared with you today.

Sharon and Darrell asked me to share some opening Remarks:

The family would like to thank all of you for your support. Most of you did not know Brett. His good friends lived in other States, but thanks to technology they were able to remain in contact over the years.

Those who were able to travel visited him in the hospital. The two people who are sitting with the family are Kelly Paul, his best buddy through the high school years and Hannah Bailey, his fiancée. The eulogy will be delivered by Paul Lord, his best buddy in his later years.

Brett loved people of all types. His California life as a little kid was always populated by kids of different color and nationalities. He loved to learn from them. One of his best friends described him as quirky, bizarre, - which she said he’d love – brilliant and a special person.

He loved to teach people new things. Being a philosophy teacher was his first choice as a career, but those old professors just wouldn’t leave their jobs so he went into computer work. His studies in Logics served him well in that capacity although he never understood why people did not use Macs when that was the logical choice for anyone who really liked computers.

He loved food from all countries and enjoyed preparing it with friends or enjoying it out in restaurants. He taught his mom how to enjoy sushi and taught his dad that Ethiopian food was best left in Ethiopia.

Paul Lord will now read his eulogy about Brett. Paul has also selected the music for today as he knew the songs that Brett enjoyed the most. After the song, I’ll read some selected stories from his friends who were not able to be here today.


Eulogy [Paul]


Thanks Al for your introductory comments, thank you Sharon and Darrell for asking me to speak, and thank you all for coming to help us celebrate Brett’s life. I hope to do this by talking about some of his favorite things, because I’m pretty sure that for Brett these things were all part of a single vision, his own peculiar and specific “askesis”.

Askesis was an important concept for Brett; it was the name of his personal website and the title of several of the posts that are collected in his book. It is a concept that tied together the many different aspects of his life. If I can use his own words for a moment:

“[Askesis] is an ancient Greek word that would most often be translated as ‘discipline.' Specifically, it means a discipline of self-development. To me, it means all of the things I do to try to become the person I want to be. Writing music, studying philosophy, climbing rocks, and improving my connections with other people are all parts of my askesis.

In short, I'm pretty sure (intellectually) about what Right Action is, to borrow a Buddhist term. The person I want to be is someone from whom Right Action comes so naturally that I never even have to think about it. Someone whose desire is always for things of value. Someone who gets things done. Someone whose life is of value to myself and others.”

This is the core of what I want us all to remember about Brett. The intersection of Brett’s askesis and the many communities and individual friendships he formed in his life transformed more people for the better than it seems possible to count. We will hear a few tales of this type in the comments and stories from friends that Al will read, but I think almost all of his friends could tell a similar story. It reminds me of the complex thought process that Mr. Palomar – The title character from Italo Calvino’s book and the source of Brett’s nom de plume-- has in his attempt to simply sit and see a single wave hit the shore. Where is the wave boundary? Where does one wave end and another start? How do multiple waves influence each other, bend, reflect, adding or subtracting their energies? In Brett’s circle of friends, you can ask similar questions about people, and their friendships, conversations, and hobbies. The boundary of a person is not necessarily their skin. Pieces of you live in others, influence them, stick to them. You pick up mannerisms. You learn things.

Here’s how it looked to me from the outside: Brett would relocate to a new city, or take a new job, or pick up a new hobby. Within weeks, sometimes days, he would meet and befriend the 3 or 4 most fascinating people in that city, company, or activity. He would dig deep into their individual genius, and then he would passionately encourage them to exceed themselves. He would do this sometimes by demanding, sometimes by sidelong inference, most often by merely introducing his friends to one another so that the fruits of their conversations or the intersection of their skills would blossom into creativity.

Looked at another way: Brett loved a Great Party. And by that, I specifically do NOT mean “partying” as a euphemism for drinking; in fact, the parties I am thinking of often featured no alcohol at all. Gathering his friends to play video games at high volume, cooking some blistering Asian fusion cuisine, dancing under the stars, getting on top of some mountain just because it was there—No. Getting on top of that mountain because one, it would take about 3 hours and we could talk the whole time, and two, because the view from the summit was the kind of thing that provokes spontaneous bliss in those so inclined. And he knew, as a matter of course, that the people he chose to take up the mountain with him were indeed so inclined, and would indeed catch a glimpse of that bliss.

At other times Brett would make these connections privately and personally, one on one, offering his thoughts, comfort, or just a listening ear. His concern for the well-being of his friends, his selfless desire for their happiness, was bottomless.

Bottomless. This is the point of the eulogy where Brett would make a tasteless joke about a guy with no pants. But I digress.

Brett fell madly in love with every child he was introduced to, even as he professed complete ignorance of how children worked, or why one might want one. I think this was because he completely identified, in a very direct way, with a child’s approach to the world; the immediate, probing, indiscriminate INTEREST in things, the quest to take the experience of the moment and fit it into a larger context. Brett’s concern for others, his thing about being so INTERESTED all the time in what was going on and how he could help, was contagious. It infected the rest of us. My own history with Brett proves this many times over, far too many to list, but if I were to merely hit a few the high points:

• In the early 90s. Brett and I were both frequent posters to the Usenet newsgroup talk.bizarre, a cleverly hidden writer’s workshop for gonzo journalism, magic realism, and other short fiction operating completely unawares in a long abused and neglected corner of the pre-web Internet. We sent many short email replies encouraging each other’s verbal experiments and offering constructive criticism. I cannot confirm, but I assume that Brett offered similar encouragement to the entire core group of regular writers to t.b.

• Thanks to talk.bizarre, we met each other in person for the first time at this Great Party called Hott.bob, in Taos New Mexico, in 1995, where over the course of 3 days we watched a wedding, went on a half day mountain biking trip, went rock climbing (with Brett as primary instructor and guide, a role he would often assume), swam in a lake, and performed a Shakespeare play. And did some other stuff. It was an epic weekend, but despite that, several group members including me left with some nagging personal issues. I wrote about mine openly on t.b (because that was what we did then); it was Brett, more than anyone, who engaged me via email and helped me work through these issues. Again, I assume he did the same for others.

• Shortly thereafter, I visited Brett in Houston, and he gave me an analog synthesizer. Not just any analog synth; the Roland SH-101, then and now an absolute fetish item for synth nerds. That started a musical journey for me that I shouldn’t even start talking about or we’ll be here all day. Suffice it to say that in the intervening 16 years I have been forced to dedicate an entire room to synthesizers, and it’s all his fault.

• In 1996, following my prior solo journey to this Great Party called Burning man, I felt compelled to go back with as many friends as I could so we could Do Something Big. Brett was an early adopter to this plan and we spent a half dozen years out on the playa working it out. Feeding 1,000 people falafel during a dust storm out of the mouth of a giant fish-shaped tent a few years later will always be one of my most treasured and personally rewarding experiences. [Editor’s note: I felt compelled at this point of the service to ad-lib an animated play-by-play of the dust-storm/falafel/fish story, the details of which I am powerless to recall for this transcript. Please insert your own memories or imagine something fittingly awesome]. Brett would go on to make Burning Man and Burning Flipside in particular the centers of his social and creative circle for over a decade.

• In a related story, the pounding Goa Trance music from India and Israel that we were first exposed to on the playa would spin off yet another circle of friends and hobbies for Brett. Brett encouraged his friend Steve to start a trance collective and many Great Parties were held in the desert outside of Austin.

• If I dragged Brett to Burning Man, Brett more than returned the favor by introducing me to Aikido. He wrote about aikido at some depth in his book, and I won’t pretend to have anywhere near his level of understanding, but I know that as far as giving me something I needed and could use, he nailed it. Thanks to my aikido practice, I became a better husband, father, and person. I wouldn’t have guessed that outcome, nor gotten off my butt to check it out, without his as-always positive and enthusiastic encouragement. Not a Great Party, perhaps, but an amazingly effective askesis.

• On the most personal note, Brett was fanatically intent on making sure that Anne knew how much I loved her, and that I knew how much Anne loved me. He would often corner us, or call, or pop up on IM, just to reinforce second hand how madly we cared for each other. His personal interest and investment in our relationship, which like all partnerships has had good times and rough times, was the most valuable act of friendship anyone has ever performed for me.

That’s barely scratching the surface. Again, I am sure that all of Brett’s friends have stories like this. Brett’s compassion was so broad, it even extended to the non-sentient. He spent several years trying to teach a computer program such critically important topics as, “What is Jello?” and “What is the comprehensive list of ways that a thing can protrude from another thing?” and “What, exactly, does it mean to be ‘Outside’?” and he did this in the obscure predicate language of Cyc, which makes my communication struggles with my then-toddlers seem almost quaint by comparison.

I’ll end with a final musical anecdote. Before Al speaks, we will hear the song “Pansy” from Ultramarine’s album _Every Man and Every Woman Is a Star_. This was a much-loved track that served as the background music for many a late night bull session. However, Brett was not exclusively fond of the kind of light, optimistic music featured in the service today. His love of twisted, frightening soundscapes made his occasional performances as Ranger DJ Princess Deathbunny true adventures for his audiences, most of whom swung wildly between sheer terror and hysterical laughter for the duration. But even here, I think Brett’s askesis held sway. Despite the common refrain heard during his DJ sets – “Brett, that was evil.” – I can’t help but see his jarring mixes and punishing song selection as anything but the work of a particularly compassionate and gifted Norse Trickster god. [Ed note: “Your own personal Loki” is the right line here, but it didn’t occur to me until the drive home]. Without those dark passages and scary lyrics, the good time happy happy joy joy music being played by all the other DJs wouldn’t resonate so sharply. Brett’s idea of evil mostly fell in to the category of "intentionally messing with people in unexpected and sometimes profane ways." It's hard to describe how funny this was, once you realized the essentially harmless nature of it. Brett’s sense of humor was in play when he DJ’d for sure, but his sets created the background against which a real physical and emotional release could flourish. As Brett would have said, “This is a service I provide for free.”

For this and so many other gifts large and small, I’ll simply close by saying: Thank you Brett, for everything.

[Music: Ultramarine, “Pansy”, from _Every Man and Every Woman is a Star_]

Memories and Stories [Al]:

There have been a number of stories that were sent in, some very serious and many with a strong sense of humor. Sharon and Kelly spent considerable time going through these and selecting some for this afternoon. The stories were still arriving even at 10:30 this morning.

#1. “ Brett loved to host gatherings. He had a knack for throwing parties, whether they were small dinner parties, or larger affairs, you always knew that you would have a good time.” Brian Smith

“As highbrow as most of Brett’s tastes were in terms of books or music, he simply loved bad movies. I remember being astounded once when he stated that Charlie’s Angels was one of his top favorite movies. I sort of incredulously asked him if he was serious, and he said, “Of course. Hot women kicking butt. Car chases, kung-fu, and explosions. What more can you want? When he came to live with us for a short period, he would absolutely howl with laughter watching tv’s Wipe-Out. It was as easily as much fun watching him laugh til he cried at someone being punched in the crotch by an obstacle, as the program itself.” Robin

“Brett could be single-minded to a fault. At one Flipside, (an annual week-long camping trip), he and Robin had spent the first several days stealing a silly toy giggle hammer from one another. On the next to last evening Robin had the hammer and Brett saw her crossing the main field. He immediately ran her down and started trying to wrestle the toy from her as she was trying to keep it stretched just out of his reach. During their rolling around Robin’s sarong came undone, and Brett was struggling with an essentially naked woman. As soon as he managed to wrench the hammer back from her he jumped up and ran off. Robin never let him forget that he managed to get the toy, but completely missed the fact that she had no clothes on by the time he’d gotten it back from her.” Brian

#2. “Brett was a singular, pivotal, friendship in my life and I will miss him as long as I live. It is true that Brett was not religious in any sense of the word, but he was not without his own beliefs on the “continuity” of being. I am grateful to have known him.” Glen Coleman

#3. Robin Raborn writes, ["I'll Remember...]

“His incredible appreciation for food (especially Asian cuisine), fine cheeses and coffees. He tried again and again to make me appreciate these things as well, but I’m afraid I can be very low-brow in this area and I proved to be quite a frustration for him. I was highly amused when Hannah spilled the beans about the hidden Cheeze Whiz she found in his apartment. Even though he was in the hospital, I had to tease him about that. Brett would go anywhere in search of said cuisines, which often scared me because he would pick some true hole-in-the-wall places, but time after time, these would turn out to be the best ones according to all his foody friends.”

“ His ability to listen, not just hear, but truly listen and understand situations in a way that you felt like no one else ever could. He continually surprised me by this over and over again. He always seemed able to look at things from completely different perspectives and many times provided the impetus for healing or compromise to begin.”

“His sarcastic sense of humor and quick wit. He could dish out as much teasing as he took and this was definitely one of our favorite pastimes when we hung out. Sometimes we would go to a movie and spend more time sitting in the food court later just people watching and joking about everything we saw. I loved that he was willing to put on any silly costume he could find and never took himself very seriously. The bunny ears were always a particular favorite.”

“His fascination with music and sounds. Again, this goes back to his ability to listen and put things in a different perspective. I remember him sharing some recordings with me and initially, all I could hear was noise. Once he started explaining what the sounds were and pointing out some of the specific variations and qualities that I’d missed, I realized there is a whole other world out there that most of us simply overlook and ignore. He also had fantastic taste in music and was very generous in sharing his collections.”

#4. Juliette Woods and Damian Warman, transplanted Australians who knew Brett in Austin:

“ He was kind to us in Austin. We didn’t meet him until after Damian’s cancer diagnosis, when our mutual friend Sam Bushell introduced us, although Damian had read Brett’s work on the Usenet group talk.bizarre for years. Brett took us to some interesting parties and good places to eat, sometimes driving us over as we didn’t have a car. He introduced us to some good people, some of whom we’re very happily still in touch with.

He had a lively questioning mind. On more than one occasion, he and Damian sat up late talking into the small hours while I fell asleep in a chair. When I corresponded with him online, I was always wary of using platitudes and short hand terms for affection, as they lacked the precision and incisiveness I thought he strove for.

He was also a dab hand with a sock puppet.”

#5. “Brett decided that he should develop a signature eccentricity. For a few months he drank everything out of a junky thick champagne glass from the grocery store. I remember bringing some friends to visit, only to be greeted Brett, in his bathrobe sipping milk from a champagne glass, like some low-rent Bond villain. The friends didn’t know what to make of him, which I suppose was the point.”

“Brett and I fell out of touch over the years, and I really regret it. He was part of one of the best periods of my life. He was funny, and smart, and nuts, and drove us all crazy, and I miss the jackass.”

Lore Guilmartin


#6 “My favorite memories of Brett was when he found a crevasse in my knowledge that he could fill. He would glow, puff up and be SO excited to share what he knew with me. He loved giving me knowledge. I am graced by his knowledge to this day.”

Cynthia Phelps


#7. “He will not settle when it comes to selecting dessert. He can sport pink bunny ears and rainbow-colored wigs like nobody’s business. He never judges me; he’s just my friend. His dental hygiene is impeccable and he’s always up for a tooth-brushing run. He is irresistible when he grins from ear to ear.

His rabbit hat with ear cocked to the side makes me giggle like a maniac. He always says things to make me feel better … even when he’s trying to be evil. His laugh is infectious.

He spins GREAT tunes. He shares. Your pancakes, his, whatever! He often looks like he could be normal, but underneath it all he’s wonderfully freaky. He’s got a one-of-a-kind sense of humor and a mind to match. He’s an able co-conspirator!

He’s creative. He makes a mean coffee. In a police lineup, you probably wouldn’t say he did it.”


#8. “Brett and I were close at a time in my life when I was questioning the structure of the world around us. Like a true philosopher, he didn’t try to tell me what to think about the individual contradictions I was focusing on, which I would have resisted. But rather, he gave me a logical framework in which to examine the problems and reach an understanding as to why the contradictions developed. Ever since then when I look and interact with the world, hopefully for making things better, the fundamental mode of that interaction is resting on a framework built by Brett’s great gift.”

Elizabeth Jensen


#9. “I moved to Tomball at the start of the 7th grade but lived on the extreme eastern boundary of the district. Brett moved into a subdivision on the far western boundary during 8th grade. Later I would note that I could start 2112 by Rush (a 20 minute long song) when I left my house, and it would finish before I reached his house driving 55 mph for most of the trip. We were both new in a small school where most students knew each other from Kindergarten, and we both were a little odd as well. Of course, we became close friends. We often talked about our life before we moved. Once I mentioned how we had a subscription to National Geographic and could not get the magazine delivered to our new address. He observed, “You know you’re out in the middle of nowhere where even National Geographic can’t find you.”


“There was an assignment to do a project that involved writing a small paper coupled with producing a demo piece. The teacher suggested we prepare and mount a cat skeleton. She provided the cat, left over from her Biology 2 dissections. Our first challenge would be cleaning the skull. We spent hours after school boiling the skull in a bleach solution until it finally crumbled before getting clean, forcing us to come up with another project. During the process however, the top of the pot kept getting covered with foam – much like the foam that forms when you start to boil a corned beef or pot roast. Brett insisted on being the one to remove the froth and dubbed himself the “cat skull scum skimmer”. Try saying that 5 times fast.”

Cordelia Bucher


#10. “I fondly recall all the cuddles, amazing conversations, back-rubs that fixed what ailed me, and Hunter S. Thompson bedtime stories after late nights. Ranger DJ Princess Deathbunny, my life is better because you have been in it.

You have always made me feel so much more than just the pretty girl, you saw the funny girl in me too, and for that I thank you.”

Shannen “Shannenigans” Noark


#11. “Brett and I were housemates for two years. I think it had been a pretty long time since either one of us had had a housemate. I had just built a new house, something I’d wanted to do since I was young, and I wanted a friend to live in my spare room to help out by paying some rent, but also to make my new home a warm, welcoming social space. This turned out to be a complete success. I had known Brett for half a decade by this time. We had worked together to organize campouts, we had helped each other with art projects, we had made pico de gallo together and consumed countless enchilada dinners together and I knew that we would get along.

We had such fun sharing the new house! We hosted Sunday night dinners, and would invite friends over to grill, of one of us would take on the challenge of making Indian food, or chilled avocado soup, or shrimp with chiles and garlic, or whatever. One of Brett’s favorite things to do was to make pizza dough, and prepare lots of different ingredients so that everyone could put together a pizza. Each one was different and tasty!

We had movie nights. We would have friends over once a week, and we’d watch Japanese samurai movies, old Hitchcock, anime, outtakes from television, what have you. Different people would take charge of the programming for a night so we didn’t always know what was coming. It was a wonderful reason for having friends over, and we had plenty of great conversation.

I introduced Brett to power tools, and encouraged him to not be afraid of the circular saw. While we were housemates, he made a very nice wooden box for some music equipment. We stained it blue, and finished it with lacquer. I also have actual photographic evidence of Brett helping me build a deck at my new house.”

Karen Pittman


#12. “This is a rather random, although personally important story centered around Brett, even if he was a passive character several thousand miles away.

On New Year 2009/2010, a series of random, unforeseen events left all my plans destroyed late in the game and had me boarding a last-minute train to hang-out with a close friend in Berlin (I was living about an hour south at the time) for what we thought was doomed to be failed night. At the time, my friend had a temporary roommate in her apartment for a couple of months, this Australian girl attending art school. Her older brother Chris was also in Berlin for the holidays.

Shortly before midnight, the four of us set out to brave the near war zone of small-scale explosives sold as firecrackers which Berlin becomes for New Years. I’m chatting with Chris and come to find out that he lives in Seattle. I told him that I used to live in Austin many years before. Since the pipeline of people moving between Austin and Seattle seems to be something like the human gulf-stream (transported in a Prius), we started to play that “gee, maybe we know the same people” game, which never ever really ends with that “holy crap, you know …?! Moment.

Except this time it did. After going through a couple of names, he asks me if I know “Britt” … which is actually Australian for “Brett”. I responded with one word … “Summers?”, and in the middle of the snowy sidewalk, surrounded by drunk German ruffians throwing small explosives in every direction possible, we have that jaws dropped, eyes the size of watermelons, mutual “holy crap, you know Brett?!” moment.

We spent the next hour, at least, first comparing notes, making sure it was the same “Britt” … er “Brett”, and of course there was no mistaking him. Then we moved onto some stories (I told him to relay the message that I was waving at him from Germany … another story), and the whole experience just put all of us in a great mood – which, for me, pulled me out of a fairly bad funk and ultimately triggered a series of conversations and events that led to my next career/life move. But would you expect anything different?

The thought of it … that two people with no other social, professional, or personal connections to each other than a random meeting that was never even supposed to happen would immediately have a mental encyclopedia of shared knowledge as soon as the word “Brett” was said says a lot about how much of a remarkable and wonderful person Brett was.”

Dave Smith

#13. In 1993 or thereabouts, I was deeply sad due to the end of a significant relationship. My friends Bob and Kurt took me to the park for some very serious cheering up. As we sat in the sun eating the college version of a feast (Applebee’s take-out from a picnic basket) and dragging a kite on the ground because there was no wind, Brett rode up on his mountain bike in a somewhat silly helmet. Brett knew Bob from Double Dave’s Pizza where they both worked, so he stopped. Deep, analytical, uber-hygenic Brett, meeting sad, emotionally drained not in the mood for nonsense Lee Anne, but he invited him to sit. I am glad he did. Fueled by emotional need, some box wine and a fresh ear, I proceeded to pour my troubles out. Had I done the right thing? Had I just intentionally ended my last chance for love? Was I right that my now ex was wrong for me? Brett, being Brett, listened patiently and intently to the whining of a girl he had just met.

I wish like hell that I could remember exactly what he said to me, but age and time and other experiences have blotted out the exact words. What I DO remember is how he made me feel. He made me feel secure in my choice, justified. He also proceeded to make me laugh by saying off the wall things intended to distract. I’ve counted Brett as a friend ever since.

Over the years, Brett introduced me to the internet in its early stages, talk.bizarre, IRC, instant messaging. After we all scattered from Bryan/College Station, my relationship with him was mostly electronic. He was a presence that would pop up on my screen with a “boo” to start a chat session, or a person filling his online journal with thoughts unique to him. He always amazed me with his ability to crystallize complex thoughts and emotions into succinct, witty kernels full of broader truths. There were actual encounters interspersed in our electronic dealings, and we always picked up right where we left off, as if no time had passed. The last time I saw Brett was in Houston, in January. My family and I met him for dinner while he was visiting town before his new semester of school started. We were joined by my dear friend Hannah, and I was slightly anxious about my two worlds coming into contact. The evening went as evenings with Brett often would. There was sushi, ice cream, and laughter, and a very silly Star Wars Storm Trooper helmet. Pictures were taken. Smiles all around. I hope that during our friendship I was able to provide to him even a little bit of what he provided me, Mostly I hope that wherever he is now, he’s in a silly helmet making someone laugh.”

Lee Anne Wilde

The next story is the most important of all. It is extremely humorous and was written by Brett.

#14. “If you’re 17, and your friend Neal comes into possession of a parafoil, the next step is to connect it via a ski rope to a Ford 250 Econoline van. I mean, that’s obvious, right? We had a three idiot team; Neal by virtue of being the parafoil owner and very very dim was our pilot. Kelly handled the connections and the quick-release, and I, the smartest of the lot drove the van.

You’ve already guessed this is happening in rural Texas, haven’t you?

Our plan was foolproof: Neal would stand in harness behind the van, Kelly would hold the bag open behind him, and when Neal yelled “punch it”, I would put the hammer down on my giant green monstrosity and Neal would be vaulted into heaven. Once he reached a reasonable height, he’d pop the release and drift gracefully back to earth.

Turns out a parafoil doesn’t fill up right away. So imagine a skinny kid running for his very life, tied to a two ton speeding van. We got him airborne, though. And once he was in the air, we discovered the concept of crosswinds. It was OK: he was only doing 20 when he hit the tree.

We retooled the process with a makeshift windsock. And roller skates.

It all came together one glorious Sunday afternoon on a lonely farm-to-Market road. The wind was right, the ground was level, and the fields were treeless. Kelly got everything hooked up and gave the signal. This time, the bag filled right on cue and we had a perfect vertical liftoff! For the first time, Neal was flying, as opposed to running or being dragged along the ground.

In seconds, he was directly above the van. But he wasn’t releasing! I slowed down a bit, and slammed on the brakes when I felt the rear of the vehicle rise. Neal, of course, described a perfect arc that terminated in someone’s fence, which he smashed through. It turned out that something had gone wrong with the quick release mechanism, a problem Kelly solved by tying the rope to the harness. Neal was, incredibly, uninjured beyond bruises and a sprained ankle.

And thus endeth this installment of the Bored Redneck Kids.

Closure [Al]

We will end this service with another song that has been selected by Paul. It was Brett’s favorite piece of music, entitled “Plateau” by The Orb. It is a rather lengthy composition and if you would like to stay and listen, please do so. However, if you wish to leave early, you may also do so.

Following the song, only the immediate family will be going to the cemetery.

Once again, thank you for coming today and showing your respect for Brett and your support for Sharon and Darrell.


[Music: The Orb, “Plateau”, from _Orbus Terrarum_]