brett my friend died and ode to a good man

Brett, was my young friend who died April 27, ’12.  I wrote this in poetical form to acknowledge his life and to express the affect of his life on me.

“Ode to a good man,” was written to acknowledge the death of a good man, Mr . Rogers.  I first saw Mr. Rogers, as did many of you, on T.V. My young daughter was watching him and I begin to watch his show.  I thought, ‘this man truly loves children,’ and when he said, on every show,”I like you just the way you are,” he touched my soul.

His profound affect on the children was revealed when he approached the podium to give a commencement speech to a university.  When he reached the podium the entire graduation class stood up. and in unison began to sing “won’t you be my neighbor…” song.  I bet many of you can sing that song.  If you are interested in investigating death in a deeper manner, go to my archives to “I’ve seen the Eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker”… Sept., 2o09 and “addendum to blog on death,” Dec. 2009.

 

brett my friend died

He died age 18, on tues. April 27, 2012.  People said, “So tragic! goes to prove how fragile life is.”  A quick appraisal of that statement exposes lack of wisdom.  Life doesn’t reveal fragility, but its tenaciousness, its relentlessness, its eternalness.  Look any where, visible or invisible, and life is expressed.

He was my friend and neighbor.  Our friendship was built on, yard work, landscape projects, and deck maintenance and repair over 11 years.  He was my, even keel, never complaining worker, companion.  When he was 7, he wanted to help cut the grass.  Try as he may, he couldn’t push the machine without my aid.   At 16, he was pushing that machine like it was a toy.

Brett, our friendship is an expression and acknowledgement of your life.  My friend, take your rest now.  It will be better next time.

 

ode to a good man

A good man died today, leaving a void in the living world.  Who will fill that void?  Finding another good man in our world of lies, deceit, greed, arrogance, meanness, anger and fear, would take even more than Diogenes’ lighted lamp.

Who will mend the suffering heats of our children, give them love and encouragement, comfort their fears, ignite their imagination; who will accept them “just as they are.”

Maybe the goodness of this man sowed seeds of goodness within the hearts and minds of some of the children, and through nurturing these seeds began to grow into mature blooms of goodness.  Not only will there be enough good to fill the void, but it may over flow.  I hope so. I think so.  I believe so.

Farewell Mr. Rogers.  I will be watching for the blooms of good.

 

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