Lorne Flemming, My Friend
Lorne passed away this past month. I’ll miss him a lot. I’ll never know anyone as interesting, or as willing to keep the party going as this guy. Bullshitting on the weekend just isn’t the same without him.
You have heard the tolling of 11 strokes.
This is to remind us that with Elks, the hour of 11 has a tender significance.
Wherever Elks may roam, whatever their lot in life may be, when this hour falls upon the dial of night, the great heart of Elkdom swells and throbs.
It is the golden hour of recollection, the homecoming of those who wander, the mystic roll call of those who will come no more.
Living or dead, Elks are never forgotten, never forsaken.
Morning and noon may pass them by, the light of day sink heedlessly in the West, but ere the shadows of midnight shall fall, the chimes of memory will be pealing forth the friendly message,
“To our absent members.”