Mr. Tone was a son, a brother, a father, and a grandfather – yet he had no family. Mr. Tone was well known by many – yet he had no friends. He worked most of his life – but seldom enjoyed his work. He volunteered around his community – yet helped no one. He hunted – yet was not a hunter. He fished – yet was not a fisherman. He wrote – yet was not a writer. He was an artist who practiced no art.
He found humor in sarcasm. His greatest skill was poisoning conversation. Claiming the cause of social justice validated his obnoxious demeanor. Self validation was his prize, his motivator, his means of justifying the end. There were few boundaries – and those were not often threatened.
He was an author of a thousand essays and two books. The income from book sales served as further validation of a sarcastic spirit; a spirit not inhibited by the need for love from others. That cause was lost in his youth.
Mr. Tone’s faith was minimal – his glass always half empty. He was certain there was no Christ, Buddha was a fat man, Tao was for sissies, and Zen a means of self-delusion. His ying and yang did not match, his unconscious out of focus – yet he clamored on. Lack of faith and cognitive distortions never stopped Mr. Tone from expressing his sarcasm.
The death occurred April 19, 2012. His body was put on ice waiting for someone to claim it – no one came forward. His last wish was to be cremated and his ashes scattered at sea. He has been cremated in the hot fires of the St. Joseph, Missouri, Animal Shelter. With no ocean available his ashes were scattered in a farm pond. There was no service – a cab driver was commissioned to deliver the ash to the water. Typical of Mr. Tone, the cab driver received no tip. The only verification of proper ash scattering was the seventy-two cows that died because they would no longer drink from the pond.
Personally, I shall miss his spirited opinions and clever wit.