Cover photo for Carl L. Jones, Sr.'s Obituary
Carl L. Jones, Sr. Profile Photo
1934 Carl 2024

Carl L. Jones, Sr.

March 30, 1934 — February 5, 2024

Missoula

How is it that with so many people on earth, no two are identical? Neither in looks nor in identity. Similar, but not identical. We humans are unique but also dissimilar. We are plagued with questions that don’t have clear answers. Some are even difficult or impossible to form into fathomable or meaningful questions.
 
Among these are questions about death. What really happens to us and how do we really want to be remembered. Is it moral and meaningful to be arrogantly shrouded in extravagance with a few words scripted as evidence that we lived at all.
 
I guess I’m looking for more, and have a plan, where it won't be necessary to travel to a stationary site to place flowers and meet with fellow rememberers, but rather I will travel to those who grieve, if indeed there are any. My plan is more progressive than just hieroglyphics on a stationary monolith.
 
My new beginning, after my demise, will NOT be deep in the earth, but rather remains poured as ashes into the Clark Fork River at Missoula. The river where I “snagged” salmon before dams blocked their spawning, where I swam in my youth unclad and unconcerned, where I freely fished and bonded with the creeks and streams as they followed their banks to finally converge with the Clark Fork of the mighty Columbia River.
 
The amount of ashes poured will be at the judgement of my dear wife, best friend, and companion, Vicki; but with counsel of our five sons, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. My wish is to have a fair amount of my remains as ashes deposited into the river. The remainder to be done with as Vicki chooses. But please, no prayers or preaching lies so prevalent in earthly religions. Please make it more of a friendly get together and not a mournful wake. I hope Vicki will decide to join me; where we together - as a memory, as well as in memory - will continue to be together. Our life has been an exciting, wonderful adventure that has gone by too fast, in this way it will go on.
 
Then, if only in illusion, the river will finally take our ashes to the mighty Columbia and then the vast Pacific Ocean and San Diego and Salt Lake City, by certain special illusive waterways, and then to all the great oceans and water ways of the world. In this way it would be more convenient to visit a symbol of our existence or memory, if anyone should want to.
 
A part of us, if only as a faint expression or figurative impression, will be there happy and free. In this same way, we will exist in every fall of water no matter how small or what color or hue. In every waterway, lake, and stream, and in every drop of blood, sweat, or tear. Just stop and listen thoughtfully, we will feel your thought and feel your content or hurt, just as we might at such things during life.
 
So it is written, so shall it be done.

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