I have a long-running habit of not drinking alcohol during the week, then, on Friday, I have a few beers. Saturday too. I’m glad binge drinking is now defined as five beers instead of three. Therefore, I don’t binge drink on Friday.

Several months back, on a Friday night, my wife and I visited the local chophouse for happy hour. On this particular evening, the chophouse was running a special on a local craft beer. The beer was Migration Patterns, brewed by Crane Brewing in Raytown, Missouri.

Migration Patterns is a very hoppy IPA, the kind of beer that bites back. I love beer like this. In fact, Migration Patterns is easily one of my favorite IPAs.

I loved the beer, yes, but I also loved the name—Migration Patterns. Classic. It’s right up there with Bent Nail, Czechmate, and Dipthong Cowboy. I have said over the years that I would like to get in on the beer naming game. I have ideas. For example, Urban Gestalt. This would be a locally sourced IPA brewed with hops and ingredients all grown and produced in urban gardens within a 50-mile radius. Think Detroit. You see? Urban Gestalt.

Anyway, this brief encounter with this very good craft beer led me to philosophically ponder crane migration patterns, like the real birds, which I knew nothing about. Of course, being the geek that I am, I read up on cranes and their migration patterns because, well, this is just how I am wired.

If you’re old school and have watched Northern Exposure, you might imagine that I have touches of the philosopher radio host, Chris Stevens.

Turns out, sandhill cranes are actually quite fascinating. They migrate twice a year, with some flying 5,000 miles from Siberia to Mexico. These cranes average 200-300 miles per day, and with a good tailwind, they can cover 500 miles. The journey is dangerous for the cranes, mainly due to weather and hunters. Sandhill cranes can live 20-40 years. Impressive.

Consider this: sandhill cranes live 20-40 years and fly 5,000 miles twice per year. And do you know what they take for their journey? Their material possessions?

Nothing.

Compare and contrast. We, humans, are on this earth for 74-78 years on average. We don’t migrate twice per year; as a general rule, we stay in only a few places over a lifetime. Despite this, we have many possessions. Many, many things.

For many years now, I have been nominally a minimalist. I at least have minimalist tendencies. When it comes to books, I fall short. I’m a book maximalist. Other than books, I simply don’t have a lot of “toys,” nor do I feel the need to have them. Boats, motorcycles, jet skis, etc.—all the man toys—I don’t have them. I have never desired them.

I live pretty simply. I prefer a few high-quality things rather than many. Except books. I like lots of books.

My children, and in particular my boys, have adopted this minimalist philosophy in their own lives. I didn’t teach it to them overtly; they absorbed my nuances by watching. I see it in their lives more clearly as they get older. They don’t want things. They want to own few possessions and keep their living spaces tidy. It’s a joy to observe this.

While none have done it yet, I have suggested to the boys that they travel the world with only a 30-liter backpack loaded with the essentials and just three pairs of ExOfficio underwear. This kind of minimalist travel is possible. My only admonition to them is that they must travel with another person or two. Jesus sent his disciples out two by two, not one by one.

Instead of taking his life, I wish Cooper had told the world to f**k off in no uncertain terms, cashed out, bought a 30-liter backpack and three pairs of chonies, and disappeared for a season or two of life—traversing the world. Or grounded himself in one culture, spending deep time learning their language and customs, becoming a better man as a result. I wish he had done as the Aboriginals do and just walked and not stopped walking until the demons were purged. Salviture Ambulando.

In the aftermath of Cooper’s journey al otro lado, we have loosely gone through his things. For the most part, we have left everything in place, as if we’re magically waiting for him to reappear. I think we’re just not ready to say goodbye.

Cooper’s clothes are washed, folded, and sitting in the laundry basket at the end of his bed. His wallet, watch, and necklace are on the kitchen island. Each morning, I lay my hand on them and try to soak up his essence.

His guitar is sitting here in the guitar stand, waiting. Oh, how I miss hearing him learn and develop on the guitar. I used to open the door a little wider when he was playing in the evenings and just listen. I now wish I had recorded him. I last remember him playing “Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty. Interesting now that I think about it.

What has been intriguing to me, in going through Cooper’s things, is how few possessions he had. Given my minimalist tendencies, I should be happy about this. I am, but it also saddens me. I am not sure why.

Cooper was on this earth for 23 years. The Creation is better for his life.

This is what Cooper left behind:

• Mother, father, two brothers, one sister.

• Two grandmothers, one grandfather.

• Uncle (godfather), aunt, and cousin.

• One sister-in-law. Related family and friends.

• Snoopy, a 13-year-old Shih Tzu. Christmas gift, 2011.

• 2023 Honda Civic.

Technology:

• MacBook Pro— not much on it. A journal, a few notes, and a lot of math files from college.

• Gaming computer—Cooper built his own gaming computer when he was in middle school. League of Legends was Cooper’s jam.

• Apple iPhone.

• Apple AirPods.

Accessories:

• Orient watch—brown leather band, gold bezel.

• Brown Hilfiger leather wallet.

• Driver’s license, bank card, FAA student pilot’s license, FAA drone pilot license, health insurance cards.

• Necklaces:

◦ Sterling silver Figaro necklace.

◦ Carpe Diem sterling silver necklace, Maritime Supply Company. Gift from me.

◦ St. Christopher necklace—from Grandma Kathy.

Personal Items:

• Columbia, University of Arizona embroidered 19-liter backpack—from the college days.

• Cessna Pilot’s backpack—filled with flight information, 200 logged hours.

• Ibanez Performance Acoustic Guitar—Natural, with stand.

• Seven books: Dune; Meditations; Trinity; Endure; Boys NIV Bible: The Ultimate Manual; Good Poems for Hard Times; Phi Delta Theta Manual.

Workout Equipment:

• 100 lb. Everlast heavy bag.

• Krav Maga combat gloves (for heavy bag work).

• Pull-up bar.

• Wood gymnastic rings.

• 2, 35 lb. kettlebells.

• 2, 30 lb. dumbbells.

• 2, 20 lb. dumbbells.

• 20 lb. Rep Fitness medicine ball.

• 50-125 lb. Rep Fitness sandbag.

• Jump rope.

• Resistance bands.

• Yoga mat.

• GymBoss timer.

• Jujitsu gi.

• Scale.

• Soccer ball, soccer cleats.

Other Items:

• Ping golf clubs, in trunk of car—from Grandpa James.

• Floating tube—back of car, for the local lake.

• Ray-Ban sunglasses—aviator style.

• Hydro Flask 32 oz.

• Hardshell travel suitcase, carry-on size.

Clothing:

• Various, but minimal. Cooper was fond of Carhartt, Lululemon, Patagonia, Vans, and North Face brands.

• Rosary—given to Cooper as a gift from Grandma Kathy. This was buried with Cooper, in his hands.

• Outdoor Research 600 down fill hooded jacket.

• Three hats—University of Arizona, North Face, Life is Good.

• Oboz hiking boots.

• Three Carhartt beanies.

Memorabilia:

• Mexican prayer candle—Holy Spirit.

• Framed diploma, natural oak—University of Arizona, May 2022, BS Aerospace Engineering.

• Cap and gown, two stoles—College of Engineering, Phi Delta Theta.

• Phi Delta Theta picture and certificate of membership.

• Change jar—1/4 full, mostly foreign coins.

• A small stack of graduation and 21st birthday cards in the nightstand next to bed.

• Nesting dolls.

• Two Snoopy stuffed animals.

• University of Arizona queen-size fleece.

• Two small stretched canvas prints—one of the ocean, lots of orange, and one of the city, lots of purple.

• 8 x 10 painting of a Shih Tzu, looks exactly like Snoopy.

About a year ago, I was working with a very intelligent team developing an online course for volunteer firefighters. The team leader would frequently say, “I have questions…” She said this from a standpoint of curiosity.

I continue to grieve well, I think. But I have questions. So many questions. Most of which will go unanswered. I simply don’t understand.

Beyond my questions, it’s perplexing to me how lightly Cooper treaded this earth. I am happy for his gentle, quiet spirit and light footprint.

Back to that hoppy beer, Migration Patterns.

Like a sandhill crane, Cooper has migrated, taking nothing with him for the journey and leaving few possessions behind. Well, to be fair, he left on his journey wearing the same suit he graduated in, his dog’s collar and a rosary in his hands, and letters written to him by family.

Though he lived quietly and gently, what Cooper did leave behind, the etching upon our hearts, is impressive.