Farewell, Glen

He was a little skinny eight-year-old when I first got to the farm in New Zealand in 1979. Glen, one half of the Glen and Brent twins, was a twinkly kid who loved the trolley (go kart) his Dad built, didn’t appreciate most of my attempts at cooking, laughed at all my jokes, and my “funny way to talk.” He had cystic fibrosis, and always gave me cheerful, “Thump me harder!” encouragement every day when he’d hang over the back of a chair. His daily “thumping”on his back loosened the guck that was coating his lungs. We were able to see each other a few times over the years, the last time in 2011. We got to meet his wife Donna, and his two kids. Glen was 45 when he died today, a long run for someone with CF. Should have had more time.

That’s Glen in 1980 with me in the middle and older sister Paula in back. A reenactment in 1993.

Breathe easy, Glen.


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