The loss of a dear friend

We received a note this morning about the passing of a dear friend from the NC Spring Gathering.

Michael (“Mustard Man”) Porter, 71-year-old, after enduring months of agony with metastatic bone cancer, died tonight of a pulmonary thrombosis in the Farmington (CT) hospital.

He had many great memories of his times with us at the Gatherings, and he made many friends there.

Michael's brothers are on the road now going to CT. We wish them a safe and speedy trip. For those of us who have driven in Richmond and DC you know that they could use some positive thoughts.

Michael really enjoyed life. He was easy to smile and loved hearing and telling a good joke. I remember a few years back there were a number of us down at the pond during the Gathering. We started sharing jokes and Michael was having a great time. Michael and all his brothers have a sense of self confidence and self deprication that I admire.

I was thinking of sharing a poem that shed some mystic light on death and then I realized that just didn't feel right for Michael. So here is one that I enjoy by William Stafford. The Porter brothers often shared family stories and this is a family story that makes me smile.

A Family Turn

All her kamikaze friends admired my aunt,
their leader, charmed in vinegar,
a woman who could blaze with such white blasts
as Lawrence's that lit Arabia.
Her mean opinions bent her hatpins.

We'd take a ride in her old car
that ripped like Sherman through society:
Main Street's oases sheltered no one
when she pulled up at Thirty-first
and whirled that Ford for another charge.

We swept headlines from under rugs, names
all over town, which I learned her way, by heart,
and blazed with love that burns because it's real.
With a turn that's our family's own,
she'd say, "Our town is not the same" -

Pause - "And it's never been."

My thoughts are with the Porter family.

(posted by ethan)