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.