TheBanyanTree: Memories and Good Friends

[Jim Miller]

I was deeply moved when Julie forwarded the note from Mark's wife about
his death. I'd never corresponded with Mark like I have several others
here, but I did enjoy his writing. I could empathize with his concerns
when he first went to the Mayo Clinic, and now regret that I didn't
write his to relate my own experience and concerns. In pain and illness,
one shouldn't be alone.

 

Last night I was thumbing through papers on the bookshelf and came
across a letter size mailing envelop. I knew what was inside and felt a
slight rush as I removed the contents. It was a collage of people, all
members of The Spoon from many years ago. I stood for several minutes
touching faces and remembering many. So far I've only met one in real
time. (Dee darling, don't give up, I'll be back one of these days.)
There was Toby with her Cello, and Monique, and many whom I knew but
didn't recall there name, only their stories.

 

I recognized that some are gone, and other's lives have changed
dramatically in the passing years. Most of the story tellers are quiet
these days and I miss them. The real serendipity of my discovery came
from the face of the envelop. It was hand written in beautiful
penmanship. There in the upper left hand corner, the return label read
"Rock and Roll Heaven". 

 

I miss my friend Youngblood and her wild youthful roadie stories. I miss
her efforts to write after the doctors altered her brain synapse. I
always wanted her to quit smoking. I didn't tell her, I only thought it
to myself. She was the first person to write me when I joined The Spoon
over 10 years ago. She always replied quickly, regardless of the
subject. Despite her best efforts to convince you otherwise, she was a
most kind and caring person. Who could forget the kissing booth and her
love for a man in uniform, especially a Marine. I remember her broken
ankle on the Shores of Bandon and the world wide spoon drive with
presentation in an ammunition case. I remember the moment she spread her
wings to the four corners of the earth, and the Majick Dust that fell on
us all that day.

 

Perhaps I've simply become a sentimental old fool. I have my memories in
that collage of warm friends. You couldn't pay me to part with them.
Those friends were, and several have remained, a strong comfort when
life looked a little bleak.

 

Jim