self-definition and the death of a gentle friend

I found out this evening that a very gentle man, named Rich, who worked at the Morgantown Public Libraray, passed away last night. This sent shock waves through my circle of acquaintances, many who knew him personally.

I considered, and will probably, write a poem in his honor, but someone asked if I was going to try and read it at a funeral or memorial service and I said "No".

I don't do funerals.

There is actually a core group of people who are watching and waiting to see what I do when my parents, my father in particular (whom I am quite devoted to), pass, as this will put me in a fix, pitting my self-definition against my desire to honor him and please my family.

In life we are faced with the issue of self-definition. Who we are often is set at the earliest times of our lives. I know the moment when I dedicated myself to excellence in my field. I know when I decided I would not do drugs or drink. On the other hand, I never recall having, as a young man, made the decision to be monogamous. This left me without the underpinnings to make good decisions in that arena and led to a couple of real disasters.

Had I the base values about infidelity that I have about drinking and drugs, I would be certainly a richer man, although no doubt the world literary scene would be a bit poorer.

I'm working on that. Despite numerous opportunities, I never cheated on Ann, despite her poor showing in that area. Of course, the nearly seven years I was faithful to Ann pales besides the mid-term of my first marriage, when I was faithful to Jan for nearly fifteen years. In the end, I got stupid. She got the kids, the car, the house and my money. Ouch. :0(

One of the things that attracted me to the Friends, the Quakers, was their dedication to speaking only the truth...being one who is glib and clever enough to have sometimes gotten away with blatant lies (usually not malicious lies, like slander or gossip, more self-preservation, or even covering for someone else (when you die, ask God for a list of what I did under other people's names, for their sake...but be sitting down. My published works under my name are the tip of a bizarre iceberg which includes many essays, research papers and even a novel or two. Works I could not seem to generate for myself, but when called upon to produce them for others, out of a sense of helping them, I would blithely dive in).

Of course, this always backfires and I find myself on the outside, perhaps even more abused than had I been the jerk. It has long been a sore spot on my soul that I am treated as second tier in more than one circle to convicted felons, child molestors and drug dealers. Usually what got me to that pass was trying to be charitable, even allowing myself to take the blame for others' mistakes so that they can survive the fallout. Broad shoulders invite many to stand beneath them for shade.

Sigh. But this is part of my self-definition...I can take a punch from Atlas or Achilles. Sometimes it is the only thing I bring to the party. Not a sense of martyrdom, but a desire to protect others. Back to Rich.

Rich, you will be missed and mourned, by myself, and others. Thank you for your kindness, your sincerity and your gentility. I don't know if and when they will hold a service in your honor, but I will probably not be there. It would again be a compromise of myself, a man so long compromised for the sake of others that he has, from time to time, lost his way in this world. Allow me and forgive me this bit of selfishness.

If anyone reading this does attend his funeral or service, please pay my respect, and if you would, you are welcome to read this small tribute I give him now, from my heart.

To a gentle man

Here is life.
There is death.
And they are bridged in ev'ry breath.
Sleep you now.
Sleep past dawn.
We shall deal with braving on.

Peace you sought.
Peace you find.
We are those you leave behind,
to speed pace
in this race
and find you in a better place.

Thank you, friend.
Thank you, true,
for in our hearts your seeds grew.
Now your smile
slides away
to leave us little more to say.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

G'night Rich...catch you on the other side.