Of Thinking of Rain
I drove many miles to see an old friend Gary before he passes away. Before our meeting, I visited a jetty near his home and watched ospreys diving into the roiling Rogue River. Ospreys remind me of my friend because he knew all about them. He had a great osprey story and how many of us can say that?
The drive was worth it. We talked of birds and squirrels and other wildlife creatures. I was able to assist with chores around the house. I wish I could do more. He is the only falconer I have ever known. I doubt I’ll meet another one.
I wonder about my own mortality and how my life will end. I hope at Hart’s Cove, but who knows. One day you have control over such things, then you don’t.
I am writing this from a great Oregon Tavern Age joint where my friend regaled me with so many great stories, including the one about the osprey. He was perhaps the greatest storyteller I have ever met. Gary is also a great listener, and that might be his greatest trait. So many people never learn to listen.
It rained sideways during our visit and double sideways as I write this now overlooking Gary’s beloved Rogue River.
Gary commented on the rain during our talk. I think he is a great man of Oregon rain. He now rests near a big window that affords a fine view of rain, the ocean, birds and squirrels.
A good final view I would think.