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As They Begin
by
E-mail: JohnEdie@aol.com
Copyright © 2001 John Cowan. All rights reserved. Published here by permission.
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by
E-mail: JohnEdie@aol.com
Copyright © 2001 John Cowan. All rights reserved. Published here by permission.
It was thirty five years ago that Ken Taylor, Dick Byrd and I sat in my apartment among the dust motes of a late fall sun and discussed whether or not we would become a company together. We shared a dream of a world where people could be who they were, say what they thought, influence their own futures. We shared the dream, and were discussing whether or not we would build it together.
Ken decided that the world of business was not for him, so only Dick and I went on from that point, and then only for a few years before our different desires for life sent us different directions.
The two of them remained a part of me. Off and on I would work with Dick or even, during my corporate years, bring Dick in to work with us. Ken I would see from time to time to reaffirm for myself certain values we held in common, values most of my friends had but did not hold or act out with the same passion that he did.
They both died of cancer last year. Premature death one might say since they bracketed sixty with about five years between them. On the other hand, the ability of ordinary people to go on into the seventy and eighties is relatively recent and many people die much younger with much less life behind them than these two.
I took their deaths pretty much in stride knowing as I do that death comes to us all and having behind me the practical experience of parish ministry when death and its rituals and ceremonies were a normal part of the cadence of my young life.
As this the year of their vanishing has grown older, I only gradually become aware of the impact of their absence. Even when I was having little to do with Dick, rumbles of his coming and goings would filter through the professional network. Ken used to live right down the street, and as I cruised by on my bike I might stop and chat with him if the timing was right.
But their vanishing - for vanishing it is, despite all protestations that they shall be remembered, life has surged on without them and I already find myself having to explain to people I would have thought knew better who they were. But their vanishing reminds me that I am a dust mote in a late fall sun, important to myself and those immediately around me, but able to disappear as they have disappeared and life will surge on.
I always knew this, of course, but never knew it as I now begin to know it. As I now know how much I am a creature of my friends, the generation that surrounded me, and how lonely it becomes to lose those who dreamed the future with me and are no longer here to tell me if this is itThe author of this essay is John Cowan. He has written two books of similar essays: Small Decencies and The Common Table Each is approximately 160 pages in paperback. To purchase either book by mail send a check for $10 per book to him at 1498 Goodrich, St. Paul, MN 55105. Price will be negotiated for any order over 20 books. If you wish to discuss consulting or speaking engagements or attendance at a workshop he may be reached by e-mail. His address is Johnedie@aol.com
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