PennSilverTaco's "Perfect 5-Lug Regular Cab" Build, Aspergers, and General BS MegaThread!

Yup I remember the move and the trailer. Good that y'all were able to reconnect after. Sometimes people are better friends when they aren't around each other constantly, I have several that I could never live with

What TN said, and believe me I rationalized my own addiction like you wouldn't believe..and heard many others do the same with theirs.

Forgiveness isn't always for the forgiven, sometimes it's for the forgivee..if that makes sense.

 

Better the PT versus the Tacoma, no doubt!!

 

If it had been the Tacoma, the damage would have been minimal to nonexistent…

 

A totaled PT Cruiser donated its dash bezel via eBay, and it arrived today!

 

@6 gearT444E
@ABA180
@Bishop84
@ColoradoTJ
@Just_A_Guy
@shakerhood
@Speedytech7
@steelcity2
@TnShooter

I made it more than 36 years without getting an injury that put on me crutches...

On the night of Sunday, April 27th, I slipped on a magazine on my bedroom floor. A magazine on carpet is like an ice skate, and my left knee went out from under me; I first injured my left me sometime in the summer of 2008. I was getting on my bicycle, my knee gave out, and I ass-planted on the hood of my mom's 2004 Honda Odyssey. As everybody knows, minivans have sloped hoods; I landed on the hood, slid down it, and ass-planted a second time in the driveway. My parents took me to the family physician who didn't find anything concerning, and I just walked around with a throbbing knee for a few days. I was 19 years old at the time, and my left knee hasn't been the same since then, but I've been more or less able to ignore it. I went into work about an hour or two later on Monday with permission from my boss after explaining what had happened. By the middle of the week, my knee felt a little weird but ultimately fine.

As everybody knows, Amanda and I drove to our friend Emily's condo the following Saturday because Amanda hadn't heard from her in two days, and we ended up finding Emily dead on her couch. Dashcam footage shows me running from the truck upon arriving at Emily's condo, and then hauling ass back to the truck a minute and 25 seconds later to grab my phone so I could call 911. I went about my normal routine, working at Enterprise and scrapping stuff, and all was fine. My knee hurt when pushed to hard, but everything was fine until May 20th. I sat down in the break room at work for a few minutes, and when I got it up, it hurt like hell and I couldn't straighten it. Today, I finally called the orthopedist my parents have used and initially wasn't going to have an appointment until Tuesday morning. The orthopedist called back a short time later and said that they could get me in at 2PM today; I drove myself there and they took some X-Rays. The doctor found what she thinks is a calcified bit of cartilage that quite possibly could be from the 2008 injury, and finally broke loose, locking my left knee in a bent position. She requested an MRI, but right now the MRI place is booked until the morning of June 2nd. In the meantime, my doctor does not want to me work. My boss at Enterprise is very understanding of the whole situation and just requested that I text him a picture of the doctor's note, which I did. My parents are going to help me out financially so I don't have to dip into my savings.

There is a chance I might have to get a procedure done called an arthroscopy, but my doctor doesn't want to say yes or no until she sees the MRI. I am on crutches not because I am in too much pain to walk (pain is actually minimal), but because my left leg will not straight and I have a limp. It is actually okay for me to put weight on my knee when using the crutches as well! This is one of those rare times that I am glad my truck has an automatic transmission, and because it's my left leg, my doctor has no problem with me driving. I just put the crutches in the bed of the truck when I am not using them. I will also be able to drive the PT Cruiser, if needed, without issue.

I only need one crutch to get around in the house and get up the stairs, and using them is not as bad as I thought it would be! I have played around with the crutches of a relative who needed them, but this is my first time legitimately needing them. So yeah, in less than a month...

• Amanda had a breast cancer scare
• Amanda and I found our friend we'd known since high school dead on her couch
• We found out that Amanda's birth mother was smoking crack at the time of her death
• Now, I'm on crutches for a rather bizarre (in my opinion) knee injury!

 

Geeze Charlie what else can happen ! I think ur going to have a streak of good luck. Hang in there man.

 

Amanda and I scored a running car with a clean title for $800 last month, and I got laid the other day...

Unlike my late friend, I actually go to the doctor in person when something is wrong!

 

Sorry to hear that man. If the doctors up there are like down here, they'll send you to physical therapy first.
And when, if, that doesn't work. They might actually do something about it. But not before some specialist sees you.
And then, you get to go BACK to physical therapy.

I'm starting to think a lot of "medical" scuff is a money racket.
Test this, test that. Get referred here, then there.
And maybe, if you are luck, you figure out what the problem is.

I can honestly say, I try NOT to do stupid stuff that might get me hurt.
It's not that I'm afraid I "might" get hurt.
IT's that I'm afraid of what it takes (and cost) to get it fixed.
And, it just plain hurts, to get hurt.......

 

Could perhaps be bursitis, your symptoms sound similar to mine about 16-17 yrs ago. Hurt like hell to try and move my right knee. I had a large brace/wrap with metal rods and crutches for a few weeks, though I found it easier by far to get around with only one crutch. I was able to throw the crutches behind the headrests on the Colorado back then, might work easier for you as well.

 

Like a gun rack?

 

Exactly, yup. Held em right in place

 

@BkerChuck
@uurx

It has been pretty much exactly 22 days to the minute that a cop emerged from our friend Emily's condo and told me and Amanda that she was gone; I have recovered quite well, and Amanda is improving, but what I'm having trouble processing is that I actually found the dead body of someone I'd known for almost two decades. Unlike Amanda, I don't have PTSD from past experiences, so that's probably why I handled it better than did.

I've loved watching some pretty gruesome shows since I was still in middle school; I believe that I watched FBI Files for the first time in late 2002, when I was in 8th grade. I've also watched CSI, Dr. G: Medical Examiner, Untold Stories of the ER, The First 48, Criminal Minds, Crossing Jordan, Law & Order, the Chicago trifecta (Med, Fire, PD), and SWAT. The Sopranos also has some pretty nasty death scenes; I love those shows, not for the death but because they interesting.

My parents and my aunt and uncle took my cousins and me to see Body Worlds at the Franklin Institute in 2006; I was 16 (almost 17), as was my older cousin, and my younger cousin was almost 14. We all thought it was pretty cool.

As stated earlier, I went to an open casket funeral for the first time at the age of 18, when my grandfather died from lung cancer in November 2007. I knew that I my grandpa was very sick and going to die, and I knew that I was going to be seeing his body. My mom has always told me, including before we went to my grandpa's funeral, that I did not have to go up and view the body at an open casket if I felt uncomfortable doing so; I was a bit shocked at first walking through those doors and seeing my grandpa laid out, but it quickly passed. It didn't make me uncomfortable at all, and I even went right up to the casket and touch his hand. This was mostly because I wanted to say goodbye, but a decent amount of it also had to do with seeing what a dead body (outside of the Body Worlds exhibit) felt like. I also felt like it was my duty to sit in the front row with the rest of my family. I didn't cry once at either of the two viewings, or at the brief service that was held at the funeral home.

My parents and I had to euthanize one dog in December 2009, and another dog in July 2009. Both of those dogs literally died in my arms, and I cried more for them more than I did my grandpa. Both of them died peacefully and did not suffer, and when Mandy died in 2019, I knew what I was in for having experienced Molly's death less than a decade earlier.

The first time I saw a "fresh" body was in about November 2002, through the back window of my parents' van, and it was under a sheet. This was not long after we'd moved to Northern Virginia for my dad's new job at the Pentagon; I believe that it was a motorcycle accident, and the deceased had been the rider. As I said, he was under a sheet, and all I could see was the obvious shape of a body. I later read in the newspaper that the biker was like 37, but I can't remember if he'd rear-ended a car, or if a car had pulled out in front of him.

Then, there was Body Worlds in 2006...

From November 2007 to February 2024, I went to probably half a dozen open caskets...

A little after 8pm on May 3rd, Amanda realized that she hadn't heard from Emily in two days, and got this feeling that something was wrong when Emily wouldn't respond to texts; I called and texted her, and also got nothing. Looking back on it, I now realize I knew in the bottom of my heart that something was very wrong, but I didn't realize that it was literally dead wrong. I firmly believed that she was either asleep, or in some sort of medical distress that had rendered her unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, but still alive. When we were like a mile and a half from Emily's condo, I called Emily again and left a voicemail. We had crossed over County Line Road at that point but were still on 611, and when she didn't answer a second phone call, I knew something was up; I made a left onto Maple Avenue from 611, and gunned it. I have a dashcam in my truck, and even though I had the radio up fairly loud, you can hear that 2TR-FE screaming as I opened it up on Maple...



The last person to have contact with Emily was her ex-boyfriend Dennis, at about 9:42PM on Friday, May 2nd. We arrived at her condo around 8:36-8:37PM on Saturday, May 3rd; I called 911 at 8:40PM and first responders arrived at around 8:46. A firefighter kicked in the door a short time later, and the medics officially called Emily death at around 8:51PM.

The cop was the first to emerge from Emily's condo, and told us that she'd been gone for about a day. This was before we'd gotten ahold of Dennis and found about Emily's 9:42PM text to him on Friday.

Emily had phone chargers in both her bedroom and the living room; Emily was on the couch in the living room, but the cop told us he'd found her iPhone hooked up to the charger in her bedroom. Amanda lived with Emily for many years prior to us dating, and she knew Emily's behaviors, including sleep habits; Emily almost NEVER slept on the couch and preferred her bed.

Emily was in her pajamas (though unless she had work or had to drive somewhere for any reason, she almost always wore her PJs around the house, so this really means nothing), and she looked like she'd died in her sleep as opposed to having some sort of medical emergency and dropping dead. The TV was off, as were seemingly all of the lights in the condo. The only light I saw was the green LED from her Alexa. located on the table next to the couch. The fact that the TV was off was a pretty big clue; Emily was known to stay up fairly late watching TV. She also hated sleeping with the TV or any lights on (Amanda says Emily rarely fell asleep in front of the TV), so this tells us that she took a nap (probably as a result of not feeling well) and never woke up. The lights being off also don't really tell us anything because it means she could have passed when it was light out or dark out, since she prefers to sleep in the dark.

Amanda believes that she passed anywhere from 16 to 18 hours before we found her, which would mean somewhere between 2AM and 4AM, and she even suggested she could have passed as recently as 12PM. I initially believed that it was maybe 12 to 14 hours (6AM to 8AM) before we found her. It had been very warm the last few days, including on May 3rd, so Emily had the central A/C on in the condo; I did some research on the internet, and found that dying with the A/C on hastens the onset of rigor mortis but slows down decomposition.

The A/C being on, combined with the fact that we probably found Emily less than a day after she passed, resulted in a much less traumatic scene for me and Amanda. Having found a fairly recently deceased person does not bother in the slightest, at least in terms of how the body looked. What really gets to me is the fact that I knew this person for almost two decades, and that I was texting with her less than a week before she died. The detective who processed the scene lived across from Emily and knew her, so I can't imagine what he was going through; I honestly can't imagine what first responders go through from dealing with this shit on a daily basis, and having nothing but respect for them!

While we did see our friend dead on her couch, we only saw her through a window, and didn't realize she was dead until the first responders broke into her house and turned on the lights; I'd grabbed a sledgehammer from my garage, with the intention of using it to break into Emily's condo if the need arose. I informed the 911 dispatcher that I had the sledgehammer and asked if I should attempt to make entry. She told me that I would be well within my rights to break into the condo from a legal standpoint, but that she had a cop about two minutes away; I thought Emily was alive but unconscious at this point (as Amanda thought she'd seen her chest rise twice), so I decided to let the professionals break into the house. She was obviously past the point of help...

Another weird phenomenon is that when the lights were off, Emily seemed a lot further away from the window than she actually was. The blinds are fucked up and don't close properly, so that's how we were able to see inside. The only light was coming from my Tacoma's headlights and foglights, and the outside light at Emily's front door; Emily's Alexa also provided a miniscule amount of light. We thought she was asleep at first, but then we started banging on the door and the window, and realized something was wrong when she didn't wake up (my dashcam footage shows that we woke up the woman in the condo directly above Emily's). Emily's dog Hannah had been with her body, as if she was standing guard, when we showed up. She recognized our voices and came to the window, knowing that help had finally arrived.

As soon as the lights were turned on in the condo, I realized that my eyes were had been playing tricks on me and that Emily was much closer to the window. More importantly, looking back on it I subconsciously knew she was gone even though it hadn't been officially confirmed yet. As I have said before, it had been less than a day and the A/C was on so it wasn't gross, but Emily was very pale and something about her just seemed unnatural. Amanda worked in nursing homes before we started dating and had found many a recently deceased resident, and would later tell me that she knew Emily was gone just based on her appearance as well. One of the most telling clues Amanda noticed, and that I somehow didn't noticed, was when the cop assisted the paramedic by moving Emily's head, and it rolled to the side like a heavy rock. One of the guys saw me looking through the window and shut the blinds, and within a few minutes, the cop came out and told us she would gone; Amanda screamed and started crying, and all I could say was "Oh my God!" before walking back to the truck in absolute shock.

I know that my girlfriend and I went to do a welfare check on our friend and found her dead, and I know that I just attended her memorial service a week ago; I have been to numerous funerals, but in my mind, it feels like I haven't fully processed the fact that I found the body of the person who died this time (like I haven't put two and two together).

 

Now lets get back to my Grandpa's funeral back in 2007; I'd been to one funeral prior to my Grandpa's, in 2003 or 2004. My Aunt Annie is my mom's older sister and her husband, my Uncle Tommy is only related to me by marriage. Uncle Tommy's mother, who I only met a few times in my life, had died from lung cancer. Uncle Tommy, his father, and his brother had all served in the Army. As an honorably discharged veteran, Uncle Tommy's dad was able to be buried in Arlington Cemetery, and his wife was too. His wife predeceased him (he died somewhere in the range of 2013-2014), so she was buried first. She was cremated, so there was no body or casket.

My maternal grandfather died from complications relating to Alzheimer's 7 years before I was born, but I was very lucky growing up in the sense that I had the rest of my grandparents. My dad's parents divorced in the 1960s, and both remarried, leaving me with two sets of grandparents; I just saw this as a way to get more presents for my birthday and Christmas when I was younger, and didn't know the reason for the divorce until after my grandfather had died...

My paternal grandpa was "Pop-pop" and my paternal grandma is "Grammy". My cousins and I always called Pop-pop's second wife "Nana J" and Grammy's second husband "Mr. P". Not only is Grammy still alive, but both her mother and Pop-pop's mother were alive well in to the 21st century, with Pop-pop's mother even outliving him! Grammy's dad died in 2004 at the age 93, and I believe that Pop-pop's dad died in like 1999 (I don't remember how old he was or what year he died in, but it was BEFORE Pop-pop died in 2007). Pop-pop's mom died in like 2010...?

Grammy's mom died in 2012, aged either 91 or 98; Grammy is going to be 87 this September.

Nana J is still alive and is either 80 or about to turn 80. Mr. P passed away in April 2017, at the age of 93.

My maternal grandma died in January 2015, at the age of 88. All of my mom's grandparents and great grandparents died either before she was born or when she was still fairly young; none of my aunts, uncles, or cousins have died.

Grammy and Pop-pop had four kids between 1958 and 1961, and when Pop-pop remarried,

Going back to how I handled the illness and death of Pop-pop, I forget whether he was diagnosed in 2005 or 2006; I believe that it was in early 2006. He responded well to the chemotherapy for more than a year, but then it about October 2007 they discovered that it had spread to his liver and ended treatment. We knew he didn't have much time left, so we decided to have an "early Thanksgiving" on Saturday, November 4th.

With the exception of one aunt and uncle who lived in Florida and had to fly up, everyone lived in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, so arranging this was not hard. By this time, Pop-pop was confined to a hospital bed in the guestroom of his house. Honestly, I had been told there was a chance he could pass that night, so I was constantly going into the guestroom to make sure he was still alive. There were a couple times when I went in there and found him motionless, but then his stomach would rise, he would breathe, or he would make another noise that told me he was alive.

He was still all there mentally from what I could tell, but he was so weak that he slept most of the time and couldn't carry on a conversation. One trait of my autism is that I have a photographic memory. Shortly after I arrived with my parents, Aunt Tracey (Pop-pop and Nana J's daughter) told me that she wanted to take me into Pop-pop's room to "pick my brain" for family memories. That guestroom was tiny, but Aunt Tracey managed to cram a bunch of us in there, and I just started spouting off childhood memories from back in the 1990s and early 2000s.

Pop-pop had an above-ground pool installed in the backyard at some point in the 1980s, and my cousins and I had a lot of fun in that pool. The pool was old but in excellent shape, so at some point between about 1999 and 2004, Pop-pop opted to have it relined and gave it a whole new life. There was a wooden post next to the pool with a single floodlighted mounted to it. For some reason, it had a blue lens over the bulb; I don't know why, but I was obsessed with light fixtures for much of my childhood and it would make me happy to no end when it started to get dark and Pop-pop would turn on that floodlight just for me. I promptly brought Aunt Tracey to tears, and almost started crying myself, when I told this story.

Pop-pop only had four vehicles from the time I was born; 1986 Toyota pickup, 1995 Jeep Cherokee, 2003 GMC Envoy, and 2007 GMC Envoy. At the time I was born, Nana J had a 1987 Buick Century that was a lemon and that I have no memory of. The Buick was replaced with a 1991 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight, which was replaced by a 1999 Oldsmobile Eighty-Eight. The second Oldsmobile started having problems around the time Pop-pop died, so she sold it and started driving the 2007 Envoy. When the lease was up on the Envoy, she gave that back and bought a new 2010 Hyundai Santa Fe. Just a couple years ago, she traded the Hyundai for a 2017 Kia Sportage, which she still has.

Anyway, the red 1986 Toyota pickup was purchased at an insurance auction in about 1989 by my Uncle Jeff. It had been hit in the rear, totaled by the previous owner's insurance company, and issued a salvage title. The bed was destroyed, but I do not believe it had any frame damage. It was a base model truck with a manual transmission and no A/C. I don't remember if Pop-pop decided to buy it before or after my uncle started customizing it, but that truck turned out beautiful, and he owned it for at least six years. My uncle put a new bed on it and installed A/C. He also added alloy wheels from an AMC Hornet, a power sliding rear window, a cassette stereo, and bucket seats. I rarely rode in that truck, but one time when we were visiting in probably 1993 or 1994, Pop-pop and my dad went to get pizza; I wanted to go too. Pop-pop was a lieutenant with the local police department, and he wasn't going to get grief for letting his grandson ride on his dad's lap, so that's exactly what I did; I also shared this story...

At one point during the "early Thanksgiving" visit, I was alone with my Pop-pop in the guestroom. I just started crying and went to my knees on the floor next to his bed. If Pop-pop was awake, which I don't think he was, then I don't think he was conscious enough to realize what was going on. The door was open ever so slightly, and my Uncle Kenny happened to walk by. He saw that I was crying, immediately came in, and embraced me in a big hug.

Once I'd calmed down a bit, Uncle Kenny stood up and casually let one rip; I was like "Did you just fart?"

He said that he had, and even though I was laughing uncontrollably, I said something along the lines of "Isn't that kind of disrespectful, given the current situation?"

Uncle Kenny gestured to my dozing grandfather and was like "Who do you think taught us 'Pull my finger' when we were kids?"

I started laughing even harder; Uncle Kenny to this day still knows how to cheer me up!

Pop-pop was mentally there for the most part, but because of the amount of painkillers and other medications he was on, he was a bit confused and not always aware of what was going on. The guestroom he was in is located right next to the kitchen, which was getting a workout due to us having an early Thanksgiving. It was November, so the heat was probably on, and that house got rather toasty. Pop-pop and Nana J's house is a small brick rancher built in the late 1940s, so it warmed up fast. There's also a possibility that Nana J may have slightly burned something, which contributed to Pop-pop freaking out and thinking that the house was on fire; Aunt Tracey became upset and started crying, and it took Uncle Kenny and me going into Pop-pop's room and convincing him that everybody was safe and the house was not on fire.

Despite the false alarm, our last day with Pop-pop was a great one. At one point, my dad and uncles used redneck ingenuity to give Pop-pop some beer. When asked if he wanted a beer, he was able to nod his head, but he was too weak to raise his head; Nana J had a bunch of these stick things with sponges at the end that were used to moisten Pop-pop's lips. One of my uncles poured a beer in a cup, and used the sponge stick to dab it onto Pop-pop's lips.



It was a great night, but we never forgot why we decided to have Thanksgiving early. We knew Pop-pop would be gone soon. However, I was shocked when I came downstairs less than 24 hours after last seeing Pop-pop, and being told by my dad that he had passed away.

Uncle Kenny and Aunt Sylvia, who live in Florida, came in the door at their house only to get a call that Pop-pop had died and were on a plane back to New Jersey less than a day later. The viewings were on November 8th, and the actual funeral was on November 9th...

 

@ABA180
@ColoradoTJ
@shakerhood
@steelcity2
@TnShooter

I had cried a bit back in October when my parents told me that the cancer had spread to Pop-pop's liver, I had cried at Pop-pop's bedside the last time I'd seen him alive, and I cried when my dad told me that he had passed away. However, I kept my composure until very end of the funeral service...

My Aunt Jenn started crying at one point, I forget whether it was during one of the viewings on Thursday or on Friday morning before we loaded his casket into the hearse, and I just embraced her and let sob it out.

My cousins Lanae and Sara, at the time aged 18 and 15 respectively (the same ones I went to Body Worlds with back in 2006), both started crying shortly before we left the funeral home on Friday; I have always towered over my cousins, and the only thing I could think to do was grab both of them in this big bear hug and squeeze them. They cried into my shoulders, but I managed to keep my composure.

I was not originally supposed to be a pallbearer, but one of the guys originally supposed to be a pallbearer had something come up; I overheard Nana J talking about this with another family friend. In typical Aspie fashion, I interrupted the conversation and blurted out "I'll be a pallbearer!" if I remember correctly.

Nana J had not originally wanted any family to pallbearers, but my dad and a few other relatives loved the idea and she relented; I helped load Pop-pop's casket into the hearse and unload it at the cemetery. I held it together for the service at the cemetery, but at the very end they start playing taps and I lost it. My mom saw that I was crying, and also started crying because she hated seeing me in pain. At point I was leaning against my parents' minivan, head on the window, just bawling.

I never had a bad relationship with Pop-pop, ever. However, because my dad was in the Navy, for all but 9 of the first nearly 19 years of my life we didn't live close enough to visit him and Nana J regularly. I was born in California in 1989. We lived in Pennsylvania, about an hour from Pop-pop, from 1990 to 1996. We moved back to California in 1996 and lived there until 1998, Virginia Beach from 1998 to 2000, Washington state from 2000 to 2002, and Northern Virginia from 2002 to 2005. We finally moved back to Pennsylvania in 2005 and were an hour from Pop-pop once again, but he was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2006 and died before the end of 2007. I graduated high school five months before he died, and didn't get my driver's license until three and a half years after he died. There were two memorial runs in his honor, in 2008 and 2009 respectively on the anniversary of his death, in which the proceeds were donated to cancer research. My parents and I went to both of these; I still close with Nana J and Aunt Tracey, and Nana J had the honor of being my first grandparent to meet Amanda. Now, my family has basically accepted Amanda as one of their own and Amanda has been to at least three family gatherings at Nana J's house.

I am a bit embarrassed to say that in the nearly 18 years since Pop-pop passed, I have not visited his resting place once (he was interred in a mausoleum, with a space for Nana J when her time comes). Granted, the cemetery is more than an hour from my house and not exactly in an area that I would want to visit otherwise, but I still feel kind of bad. My maternal grandparents are both buried at a church cemetery in Connecticut, and while I drove through Connecticut on my way up to Massachusetts in 2022, I haven't been to my grandparents' resting place since the funeral back in 2015.

Should I feel bad about this?!?! It's not exactly easy to just hop in my truck and drive up to Connecticut, but I am considering driving to visit Pop-pop in New Brunswick in the near future...

 

No. Not at all.
Not unless you made some kind of promise to them when they were alive, that'd you visit their graveside.

Now, at the risk of sounding uncompassionate or what ever.
IF I were to be buried, and my family visited my graveside, they be wasting their time.
They aren't going to be able to see me. and They aren't going to be able to talk to me.
I wont even be there myself.

I plan on doing a whole lot of traveling. And a lot of trout fishing when I die.
I'm going ghost my dead ass to all the places I never got to go to when I was a live.
I have no intentions of hanging around a "graveside"......

I guess, my advice is......
Visit people as much as you can while they are alive. (not dead)

 

You guys make a lot of sense.

Now, with regards to Emily, why am I having so much trouble putting the events together? It's like my mind doesn't realize that the dead body Amanda and I found three weeks ago is the same person who memorial service we attended a week ago...

 

Same here. I want mine poured in a trout stream.
My mother and brother both know. And where to pour them.....

 

Unfortunately, it is now illegal to dump ashes just anywhere, and where it is legal to do so I believe you have to get a permit...