Poor Paul

"Here Lies Poor Paul. R.I.P."
"About 2 months Ago - Tonight"

In 2003, my family decided I complained too much.  I don't remember being all that bad, but I suppose it was somewhat annoying.  At night, anytime before or after family scripture reading, we would talk about our days, laugh, and just chat.  I would "complain" about something bad/annoying/stressful in my life, and my family would sarcastically feel bad for me.  "Poor Paul," they would say, "his life is so hard."  This was quickly shortened to simply "Poor Paul".  It was funny.  Then not so funny.  Then sad.  But my family was having a good time.  Poor Paul.

After about 2 months, I asked them to stop saying it because it was starting to hurt my feelings.  I didn't like hearing everyone make fun of my life.  So, that ended Poor Paul, or so I thought.

Ron went into the computer room, quickly built a coffin, a likeness, and a head stone.  Solemnly, a funeral march commenced down the hallway.  Carrying the paper coffin in his hands, he placed it gently on the bed, wiping away a "tear".  Then the family started laughing.  I started laughing.  Poor Paul was gone (again) forever, or so I thought.

During the following 8 years, Poor Paul rested peacefully on a bookshelf.  My parents came to Utah before leaving on their mission to Ukraine.  Poor Paul surprisingly came with them.  They unearthed this poor creature and brought him to Utah, where he has seen real Paul for the last time.  Again, we buried Poor Paul.  This time for good.