Thursday, March 22, 2007


Spring! Yay for spring.

Reading other blogs I discovered some guy named Snakebite has gained extra weight he has vowed to lose, and so has Woodog. About 15 pounds to be exact. OUCH.

Inactivity and bad food choices.

I've met a guy. Greg is a guy I've known for a long time, but I never considered him romantically because he was the partner of a very good friend of mine, Steve. I set Greg and Steve up (well, introduced them) way back in 1989.

Goodness that seems like such a long time ago.

Greg and Steve. What a great couple of guys. It still seems like they are a couple. They invited me to the Unitarian Church. It was about 6 years until I went and found a home. Greg used to play the piano for the church, and then I played for the church - now we both play for the church.

Greg and Steve sold me my house. I sat across the closing table from them and nervously signed my name, sealing what has become the smartest financial decision I ever made.

Even though our church has never had a minister per se, Steve was our church's minister. He loved the work of the church and loved the people in it. He was either brilliant or a great bullshit artist, I can't figure out which. Actually I don't care. His stories were great whether they were true or not.

Steve died on March 14, 2006 of a massive heart attack at 53 years old. He was a beautiful spirit trapped in a shitty body. Even now, a tad over a year later, I want to hear his laughter, full and healthy and from the gut, reverberate through the church. It's hard, even now, to know his voice is forever still. I weep as I write this. I miss him so much.

I was in South Carolina when I got the news via email. I had planned a tough bicycle ride for that day. From my bike journal on that day

Comments: Sad day. My very VERY good friend Steve Scott died yesterday of a heart attack. I was going to attack the road today, but the sad news was chilling. He was 53. I rode for solace today, celebrating life in the face of this loss. I abandoned most of the planned route and just went looking at the world waking up. Every emerging sign of life, every beautiful blooming thing on the route made me think of him. Where I saw flowers, he saw origins of species, where they came from, how they were bred, when they bloom and why. Where I heard frogs in the swamp, he knew the reproductive cycles, the distinct species that had that particular call, their favorite food (which he knew all about too). Another voice forever stilled. I will miss him deeply.

Weather Conditions: a gift of a day. mid 60's. 15mph wind from the west. Wonderful strong rays from the sun to warm the bones and to remind the living to get on with the business of life.

Greg asked if I would play and sing for Steve's funeral, and of course I did.

This past New Year's Eve Greg invited me and some church friends to go to another couple's house (Tim and Elizabeth - too cool for words) for a drink or two. I had planned on being at home - it's what a reclusive, lonely guy does best. At the last minute I called him up and asked for a ride there.

After a nice dinner and some small talk, Greg was getting sleepy, Danny (another friend) was drunk, so we headed back home early. Greg dropped Danny off at his house and took me to my house. A goodnight kiss lasted much longer than it should have. Greg and I welcomed in the NewYear with sweet release.

Yesterday was the first full day of spring. Here it was a beautiful day, warm and breezy and inviting all who are interested in life to open up. Greg and I spent the day riding bicycles in nearby Mammoth Cave National Park. He wanted to ride bicycles because he knew it was something I liked to do. I chose that venue because I knew it was something he could do. Later it was physical communion followed by languid calm and tender, soft words. There's a large picture in Greg's room of our church. I has Steve's face photoshopped in the clouds, smiling over the scene below. It was a gift to Greg by a fellow church member. Greg told me that Steve would approve of me. It was not wierd, or an insult, or uncomfortable to hear that. I got it. In our nakedness there I felt unbounded and comfortable and cared for and wanted.

Sometimes the line between sacred and profane is blurred in soft pastel.


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