To my good friend of conviction, Charlie Davis, who left us this past week: Happy sailing. He was one of the town’s fervent iconoclasts who, sometimes, made for pure, verbal pyrotechnics down at City Hall. When I catch up to you, Charlie, I’ll let you know, at least as far as I went, how it turned out. As you know, as you were going through the door, things were looking on the sunny side of the scheme of things, mighty problematic. It’s anyone’s guess what the next few years will bring amongst the living. Never have I experienced the feeling of things, across the full spectrum, being quite so up in the air, Charlie.
Anyway, I know you can’t tell me but I can’t help but wonder what’s there to be said about being gratefully dead? May you, my friend, be immersed in it; I know the last couple of months made for a hard passage. What a noble, hard scrabble story, right to the end, you led. What a stout and stoic heart you possessed. For sure, you’ll always be a part of the lore of Homer. We won’t forget you, Charlie, especially City Hall.
Fourteen billion years in the making of exquisite hardscrabble stuff you were, Charlie, to play out a good part of your precious and brief life here in Homer. It’s been my pure pleasure knowing you. Say hello to Frank Vondersaar for me. I’ll be catching up with you guys soon enough.
Meanwhile, I’m going to have Thanksgiving with my “Morning Morgan Glow” and my “Baby Cup-Cake,” my 4-year-old and 8-month-old granddaughters Thursday. The beat goes on.
On Saturday I’m definitely getting myself gonged down at Many Rivers. Again, Charlie and Frank: till we meet again, as the beat goes on.