Tuesday, July 9, 2013

SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW

Black Swallowtail nectering on Musk Thistle.

Bright sun this morning, and already 86˚F.  A welcome change, though the day's forecast calls for a 40% chance of showers. Which will probably happen as there's a gusty shifting to the wind, which my seat-of-the-pants Ohio weather experience says is typically a harbinger of soon to come storms.

I'm thinking of taking a long drive. I have no real destination in mind…just somewhere out in the country, away from here, following the friendly backroads by whim and fancy. Aimless vehicular wandering. Escape.

I need to get away. Last night I learned an old friend and fellow writer died a couple of weeks ago. His passing had been reported by various news outlets and media sites, yet I somehow missed it. Complications following a stroke was the given cause. Though he was a few years my senior, he was still too young—too vital. Or so we always like to tell ourselves; death pays no mind to such trivial considerations. 

This is a fellow who roamed the world in search of adventure, wrote dozens of books, thousands of magazine articles and columns. A guy I admired and respected, whom I've known for more than three decades. A man of quite honor, a gentleman, and something of a mentor. From the moment we met in a hotel elevator in Macon, Georgia, he treated me as an equal, though I was just starting out in the business and he was already at the peak of the profession—widely published, avidly sought by top editors. 

Yet we hit it off immediately. Kindred spirits. We shared a passion for fishing, book collecting, photography, and rattling around two-tracks through the remote jackpine wilds of the upper Great Lakes. A few weeks later he called and asked if I'd do research for a regional section of a book on mayflies he was authoring. Later, when I delivered my material, he and his wife insisted I stay a few days as their house guest. I've never been treated better or made to feel more welcome. And it proved to be only the first of a number of similar extended visits.

Over the years we talked regularly by phone, exchanged letters and books, traded tips on writing and photography and various publishing issues. We fished together. And we got to know one another on a deeply personal level. Genuine friends. Which makes it so inexplicable why, over the last decade or so, we somehow lost touch, drifted our own ways. He retired, I had some health issues…but still?

All I know is that I'm deeply saddened by my old pal's unexpected and untimely passing. And I truly miss him.   

10 comments:

Gail said...

HI GRIZZ- I am so sory to hear of your dear freinds passing. I felt every word you wrote about your freindship and admiration and true afection for him and all that he wsa and was to you. You even used the word honor which is so wonderful to be able to feel about someone, anyone, in our lives. We are all the more richer in spirit and character if we have friends and family of honor close to us. Seems this man was a man of honor and much more. It is a mystery how time gets away and folks slip away without any real reason. SO be the mystery. Still, what you hold precious of him in you and who you are because of him lives on and time does not, cannot steal that from you, from any of us. So yes, go for a drive, be with him in your mind and heart and nature. He is all around you.
Love and so much more
Gail
peace....

Carolyn H said...

Grizz, I'm sorry to hear about your friend. There's never enough time to spend with friends. Just be happy for those wonderful times you did have together.

The Weaver of Grass said...

I know those feelings well Grizz. I lost a friend a few weeks ago - we had played music together for many years and then I had moved up here and he had stayed in the Midlands.
I don't know what makes us so very sad - to some extent I think it is because it makes us aware of our own mortality. The antidote I agree is to go out into the countryside, to look at the beauty (like your wonderful swallowtail in the photograph) and to get things in perspective. I heard someone say the other day that as long as folk who die are remembered then they are never really gone.

Grizz………… said...

Gail…

Thank you so very much for your wise and lovely words. And you're so right—friends and family are the thing, and perhaps the only thing, that truly enriches our life. Our wealth lies in those whom we know and care about and hold close. And you're right, too, that gift of them carries on in memory.…

Grizz………… said...

Carolyn H…

Thank you. And I am happy for the time spent together, days on the water, meals, talk of fish and books—all the shared exchanges of a warm friendship. I just wish…well, that one of us could pick up a phone and resume that bond.

Grizz………… said...

Weaver…

Yes, indeed, losing a friend reminds us that life is but a sojourn—a brevity we all must face. Moreover, the loss of a friend diminishes us, steals the living and leaves only memory; is becomes was, and all that remains is the unsatisfactory shadow of a fading personal history.

I'm sorry you, too, have recently lost a friend. Thank you for your kind words.

Scott said...

I wish I had a friend or colleague this close--I don't. I'm sorry to hear about your loss, Grizz.

Grizz………… said...

Scott…

Thank you. I appreciate your words, and also understand your desire. Friends are a real blessing. We all need friends—though acquiring them isn't easy. Not for me, anyway.

"Friend" is subjectively defined, one of those words that means different things to different folks. Up to this point in my adult life, I've had exactly one "best" friend—an extraordinary man, nearly thirty years my senior, who passed away several years ago; a friendship I count as one of the two or three greatest gifts in my life. He enriched my life immeasurably. In addition, there are or have been been perhaps 5-6 others I would also consider genuine friends.

Most of the people we know whom we so easily refer to as "friends" are probably better termed an acquaintance, companion, ally, partner, associate, buddy, colleague, peer, etc. I'm guilty of this myself. (Not in the case of the person I'm posting about here, however; he was, indeed, a friend.)

In spite of my outgoing nature, I don't make friends easily. I wish I had at least a handful of close friends…but it's not something I believe you can set out to make happen. There seems to be an element of inexplicable magic involved. Kindred spirits are tough to come by. Some of us are exceedingly quirky individuals, and any budding friendship always needs to be nurtured and worked at a bit—especially among us curmudgeonly scribbler types.

And yet…friends are a treasure, and forever worth seeking.


Anonymous said...

I am so sad for you....

~Robin

Grizz………… said...

~Robin…

Thank you. I appreciate you words and thoughts.