A Son’s Eulogy
He called himself a redneck but mostly he was just Mike. He loved honky-tonk women with big hair and tight pants, apple fritters and apple moonshine, was the first to promise help, the last to leave a party, the first to forget a promise, and fast as he pissed off old friends, he made new ones. He’s survived by the elk he pretended to hunt, two wives, a couple of lady-friends and, depending how you figure things, three to five kids. And depending how you figure things, he only hit me once.