Random Recollections of my friend

When we first were starting to really get to know Don and Susan, they came over for one of those late-into-the-evening porch suppers, and I remember the thrill of interacting with like minds; it was like falling in love – they were both so cool and smart and funny.  Over the years, I’ve always felt proud when I could make Don laugh – like, if this incredibly hip guy thought what I was saying was interesting, then maybe I was a little bit hip, too.  I’ll bet many of you reading this have had the same feeling.

When Dennis and I were in Scotland for the fall 2006 semester, we planned an 8-day trip to Paris, so I quizzed Don about what we should see and where we should go. His lengthy, detailed message is a kind of Don’s tour of Paris, and when we walked the routes he suggested, we imagined him all over that city. Here’s part of that note:

“the 3ème & 4ème make up the "marais" ("swamp"), the oldest and most lovely
part of paris, i think. the national archives were over there, so when i
went there to work every day. another walking tour that you might like is
to start at the musée pompidou (a great modern & contemporary art museum
if you're interested in going inside) in the 4eme and head towards the
3eme: go from pompidou to rambuteau, right at rue vieille du temple until
you hit rue des rosiers ("street of rosebushes"-- amazing jewish delis
where i had falafel lunch while in the archives). go down rosiers to rue
pavée and finish up in places des vosges. i think you'll pass by the
mariage frères on the rue du bourg-tibourg on this route, but i don't have
a map here in front of me to be sure. anyhow, under the right weather
conditions and at the right time of the day, this is a seductively
beautiful stroll through quintessential paris-- you will get laid
afterwards, believe you me.”

He signed the e-mail, “I hate you both for enjoying Paris.” J We were also calling each other and ourselves by the names of strange (to me) foods I’d been seeing in the UK: “Dear Nut Loaf,” “With love, Lemon Swish,” “Dearest Seed Meat,” “Your Pal, Scrumpy Jack,” etc. 

I’m remembering all the warm-weather gatherings on our screened-in porch; I’m remembering sitting in the kitchen and seeing Don’s head go past the porch window. Sometimes, when he and Benjamin were out and about, they’d pop in to see if I had anything good for snack-time.  

I loved cooking for and feeding Don; he was a great audience, and I was always working to see if I could get the curry hot enough to make him swear (never really could – too timid!). He could tell a good from a bad pie crust, and he agreed with me that the best were made with butter.  When he liked something, he’d say, “This shit is the bomb!”

It was always such a pleasant surprise to run in to Don. Someone else has already mentioned that delightful happenstance of being out about some business and seeing Don; suddenly, nothing seemed so urgent anymore and you’d find yourself standing in the grocery aisle or pulling up a chair at the coffee shop to get lost in great conversation. 

Susan, Don, and Benjamin lived with us for about three months the summer their house was being redone, and every morning, Don would say to Benjamin, “Eat up, Bug; let’s go.” They went out every morning, coming back some time after 12 for lunch and nap. I asked him, “Where do you guys go every day?” “Oh, here and there,” he said. They were working on visiting every park in La Crosse (they’re the ones who told me about the interesting little park behind Quillin’s, Seminary Park); they’d go play on the train in Copeland Park, go look for wildlife at Goose Island, hike around on the bluffs.

Don always had great stories about “Dada” moments in the car, times when they’d be driving around and B would get quiet and then ask, “Dada, why did that guy fight the law?” or something else about a song playing on the radio or a law of nature or the supernatural or some metaphysical inquiry. 

When the principal at Benjamin’s school died very suddenly in October, I remember talking to Don about the way the Waldorf school commemorated her life and helped the children understand her death. Don was touched by the meaningfulness of these rituals, in a world where so many rituals have lost meaning and/or been abandoned. We talked about finding some way to ritualize those we’d lost, and we swore that next year, we’d celebrate the Day of the Dead. 

I’m going to miss Don a lot, for a long, long time. It’s hard to believe he won’t be popping in with some weird sci-fi movie or e-mailing some anecdote about an especially annoying student.  I love when he had to explain to his online HIS 101 class how to tell time:

“HIS 101> how to tell time

quite a few of you wrote to say that you couldn't take the quiz because
you didn't understand that "disappears on Sunday July 27th at 1am" didn't
mean "disappears on monday july 28th at 1am."

see, this is how it works: at midnight, days change. so it's saturday all
day until midnight.

and then at 1 second after midnight, saturday magically changes into
sunday.

so, it's saturday july 26th until midnight, and then it turns into sunday
july 27th. "sunday july 27th at 1am" means "one hour after midnight
saturday july 26th" & not "25 hours after midnight saturday july 26th" or
"one hour after midnight sunday july 27th". because that would be monday
july 28th at 1am.

are we all clear about how to tell time now? if not, then maybe you could
ask a grown-up for help.”

I suppose I’ve written enough. I’ve been so happy to hear all the other stories and tributes and to know that Don has always been Don.  I'll sign off as he often did:

miss you; kiss you

Virg