Adieu my friend
Yesterday I had a message from Carolyn, my friend Dennis's sister.
I knew Dennis all my life; he lived on the corner down the street from my parents' house. He was 7 years older than I was, so we had little in common at first.
Then when I was 17, he rode up on a Honda 250 Dream to the city swimming pool where I was life guarding. He had just ridden that little motorbike from California to Kansas. We started talking, and 50 years later our conversations were interrupted but never finished.
A tall, lean redhead with an easy grin, Denny was a mentor and friend. He earned a PhD in mathematics from Nebraska, and then went to India as a Peace Corps volunteer. There he learned of Vipissama, a Buddhist meditation that had been preserved for centuries in Cambodia. He spent the rest of his life teaching English and mathematics in Japan, Korea, New Zealand, India and all around the Pacific rim. Summers he devoted to Vipissama, first as a seeker and later as a guide. He did week-long sessions all over the world; I would get post cards and emails from Peru, Tonga, Israel, Fiji, Holland, Japan - he was a wandering soul. He explained his vegetarian diet to me as not so much Buddhist as practical - he said living in the Third World as much as he did, fruits and vegetables were less dangerous to Western immune systems as the local meats. For the same reason he was more into herbs and folk medicines, as American pharmaceutical remedies are not easy to find where he travelled.
At one point after he retired from teaching, he began leading medications in US prisons. Wardens became enthusiastic supporters of his program, because formerly angry, violent inmates became model inmates. It takes a lot of courage and confidence to allow oneself to be locked into a maximum security prison for a week, living with convicted murderers and r****ts, but the program grew from New Mexico to Arizona to Georgia as wardens shared the results of helping prisoners face their own demons.
We would not see each other for years at a time, then he would show up and we would resume our conversations where we had left off. His was a gentle soul, never judging, quietly doing his part to bring peace and respect to all he met. He died yesterday of cancer, deciding against intervention. I hope I have the dignity to meet my end as calmly.
This song comes to mind - I think he exemplifies it.
https://youtu.be/_9TShlMkQnc
I knew Dennis all my life; he lived on the corner down the street from my parents' house. He was 7 years older than I was, so we had little in common at first.
Then when I was 17, he rode up on a Honda 250 Dream to the city swimming pool where I was life guarding. He had just ridden that little motorbike from California to Kansas. We started talking, and 50 years later our conversations were interrupted but never finished.
A tall, lean redhead with an easy grin, Denny was a mentor and friend. He earned a PhD in mathematics from Nebraska, and then went to India as a Peace Corps volunteer. There he learned of Vipissama, a Buddhist meditation that had been preserved for centuries in Cambodia. He spent the rest of his life teaching English and mathematics in Japan, Korea, New Zealand, India and all around the Pacific rim. Summers he devoted to Vipissama, first as a seeker and later as a guide. He did week-long sessions all over the world; I would get post cards and emails from Peru, Tonga, Israel, Fiji, Holland, Japan - he was a wandering soul. He explained his vegetarian diet to me as not so much Buddhist as practical - he said living in the Third World as much as he did, fruits and vegetables were less dangerous to Western immune systems as the local meats. For the same reason he was more into herbs and folk medicines, as American pharmaceutical remedies are not easy to find where he travelled.
At one point after he retired from teaching, he began leading medications in US prisons. Wardens became enthusiastic supporters of his program, because formerly angry, violent inmates became model inmates. It takes a lot of courage and confidence to allow oneself to be locked into a maximum security prison for a week, living with convicted murderers and r****ts, but the program grew from New Mexico to Arizona to Georgia as wardens shared the results of helping prisoners face their own demons.
We would not see each other for years at a time, then he would show up and we would resume our conversations where we had left off. His was a gentle soul, never judging, quietly doing his part to bring peace and respect to all he met. He died yesterday of cancer, deciding against intervention. I hope I have the dignity to meet my end as calmly.
This song comes to mind - I think he exemplifies it.
https://youtu.be/_9TShlMkQnc
8 years ago
