Remembering Quintin

My friend Quintin from my last job died on Tuesday. I was surprised to hear it. I thought he would live to be 100. I knew he had heart problems, but he seemed to get through them ok the 3 years I was working there. From what I heard from Lisa, Quint had a heart attack on Monday night when he was out with his family. They took him to the hospital and he was put into a drug-induced coma. By Tuesday they decided he wasn't going to get any better, so they took him off life-support.

Quintin had more life in him than I do. He was always talking to people and travelling the world and riding his 4-wheeler - at the age of 78! He acted more like a 50 year old. Or maybe even younger. If it wasn't for his snow-white hair you would have thought he was alot younger than 78.

Quintin was what Georgia and I called "semi-retired." He came to work when he wanted to, which was usually from about 10 or 11 am until 1 or 2 pm. Or somedays not at all. Sometimes he would be gone for weeks travelling to Montana, California, Hawaii, China, Singapore, Greece, Turkey... We didn't care, we figured if we were his age we probably wouldn't go to work at all. Well, that, and he was his own boss.

The funny thing is, once I told Quintin that I wished I were working because I wanted to be there, not because I needed the money. He looked at me like I was crazy. "Nobody goes to work because they want to," he told me, "they go to work because they have to." I don't think that was true of Quint. I think he went to work because he wanted to. Of course, Quint could make almost anything fun.

I didn't get to see Quint my last day of work. On my last day of work Lisa, Kenny, Stratton and I went out to lunch for my "going away" party. Quint came into the office while we were gone and left before we came back. He left me a really nice note about how much he liked me and how he would miss me. It made me cry. I wrote him a note and put it in his box. That was the last contact I had with him.

Last weekend I was thinking about going and buying some vitamins from him this week. I was even thinking about him the day he passed away. Ironically enough, when David and I were at the cardiogist's on Tuesday there was a treadmill that said "Quinton" on it. Wrong spelling, but same name basically. I said, "I know a Quintin." I had no idea he was in the hospital in a coma at that moment. At least I get to go to his funeral. I'm glad Lisa called and told me because I never read the obituaries.

Quint was funny, he told me stories about what a horrible musician and dancer he was. He went to Arthur Murray Studios to take dance lessons when he was young. He said the instructor told him not to bother coming back because there was no hope for him learning to dance. He said, "You think they would have wanted my money." He told me about inheriting a violin when he was young. His mother found him a violin teacher close to home. After the first lesson, the teacher told him to find a hobby that had nothing to do with music. Quint may not have been musically talented, but he had so many other talents it didn't matter.

Quint even told me stories about sluffing school and that he and his friends would sneak off to a swimming hole. He grew up in the East Millcreek area and knew just about everything about it.

I'll miss Quint and his stories and his smile. He was a very kind person who was fun to talk to. He was one of my favorite people. It is sad to know I will not be able to talk to him again in this lifetime. I am glad that I had the chance to know him and work with him. I suppose he's up in heaven telling his stories to the people he loves that passed on before he did. I'm sure he's happy because I never saw him any other way!