You’ve got to have something to eat and a little love in your life before you can hold still for any damn body’s sermon on how to behave. (Billie Holiday)
But man, proud man, / Drest in a little brief authority, / Most ignorant of what he’s most assured, / His glassy essence, like an angry ape, / Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven / As make the angels weep. (William Shakespeare)
If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don’t have to worry about the answers. (Thomas Pynchon)
Stigmatize those who let people die, not those who struggle to live. (Sarah Kendzior)
Here is my semi-annual (News Years Day and Memorial Day) roster of some of those whose deaths have come to my attention:
Friends
Nancy Randall Ingram Barney, parishioner at St. Luke’s, whom I first met in visiting during the dying of her first husband and subsequently married to her second husband and whose house I had just left when I had the accident that led to my 30 days at Valley Hope that began my recovery from alcoholism! That was 34 years ago.
Liz Baxter, outside of my immediate family, the person I had known the longest in this world—there is a picture of us in a crib outside the apartment complex where her parents and mine lived when we were both born close to the same time—and she later became a parishioner of mine at St. Stephen’s, Grand Island, and hosted me at her book club. Grand lady!
Mary Ann Boman, gracious wife of Fr. Sam and loving presence in our Diocese for decades. Sam and Mary Ann were my last touch with Mom and Dad’s seminary days, being together at Seabury and friends ever after; she knew tragedy and still spread joy and welcome.
Tom Cox, fellow MHS Class of 1960 graduate. Tom moved to McCook, if I recall rightly, about a year after I did. Almost immediately, he and Susie Sauter became an “item” and continued that way the rest of their lives. As a couple, they were easily the most popular kids in the school and I never heard anyone say a bad word about either of them. He was a clothier—may he now be clothed in glory!
Kaye Hamblin, long time friend, wife of the very fine poet, biographer, and Faulkner scholar who for years directed the Center for Faulkner Studies at Southeast Missouri, which sponsors a biennial conference on Faulkner and one other author—the last I saw Kaye was her acting as hostess to the dinner for the conference goers in Cape Girardeau, where she and Bob beautifully restored an historic home.
Sharan Wertz Hinkle, whose parents were very close to mine when we lived in McCook, very active at St. Alban’s, and who made for youth group one Sunday night the first runzas I ever ate.
Berwyn Jones, parishioner at St. Mark’s on the Campus, Lincoln, where I’m “Rector in the Interim,” who told me two things about himself the first time we met—that he was Welsh and that the loved St. Marks on the Campus—to which his sons added, “And he told you in exactly that order!” He and his late wife Martha were the founders of the Welsh Museum.
Jack Kilby, faithful priest at St. Andrews, Omaha, and supply priest at Christ Church, Central City where I was priest in charge for four years.
Betty Lund, spouse of a faculty colleague at UNK and delightful personality; we often sat with them at the annual emeriti breakfast.
Gordon Morrow, long-time Kearneyite and businessman, well-known in many social and church circles.
Marilyn Wheat, mother and grandmother, beloved of Jamie, Matt, Betsy, and Sam Lewis.
Celebrities
Honore Blackman, the most famous of the women in the James Bond series, an icon to a generation living in the sexual revolution—galore indeed.
Kobe Bryant, all-star basketball player and an example of a reckless youngster that matured; along with his daughter Gianna (13) and seven other passengers on his helicopter, whose celebrity has eclipsed even their names.
Kirk Douglas, who took his cleft chin and an amazing vitality into films of many genres over many decades, and based on the advice of John Wayne, turned down the part Gary Cooper played in High Noon
Roy Horn, of Siegfried and . . . As though being drug off stage by a 400 pound tiger wasn’t enough, the tiny corona virus drug him off for good.
Katherine Johnsons, there’s no calculating where she’s going but she goes there no longer hidden from the major role she played in space.
Jim Lehrer, co-founder of the PBS news hour, practitioner of honest journalism, news not entertainment, and one of the first to realize journalists had gotten how to deal with Donald Trump all wrong.
Little Richard – I’m sure my first acquaintance had to have been Tutti Frutti (not to be confused with Cosi fan Tutti!), whom I met in the Toronto airport after flying through a tornado, our common bond our greenish pallor.
Joseph Lowery, towering spiritual figure in the Civil Rights Movement, part of its soul.
Sheik Mohammed Ali Motta, a major figure in Kashmir, father of our friend and former colleague, Nyla Khan
Hosni Mubarek, the Egyptian strong man who has now met his final limitation.
John Prine, beloved musician felled by COVID-19—no way to count the number of singers and songwriters he influenced.
Don Shula, legendary Dolphins coach: if winning is what counts, nobody counted more!
Jerry Stiller, if T. S. Eliot is to be believed, he is even stiller now! Mourned by the Seinfeld cast and his partner Meara.
Jack Welch, former head of GE and at the time considered by some to be the most important business leader in the United States
Bill Withers, and sure enough, the day he died, at least around here, there weren’t no sunshine, who also gave us the theme song of all those isolated by COVID-19; we’re still leaning on you.
This blog will have a new look for the remainder of 2020—shorter pieces with one focus, mostly not political but then you never know when my level of tolerance/acceptance will be reached—or breached!
Kearney, Nebraska
Memorial Day Weekend 2020
capeek 