It’s taken ten years, but I think at this point, I’m at peace with my Old Man being gone. Getting the news was hard, I was in the middle of nowhere Alaska living in a cabin on the property of the resort I was the Chef at. I did not take the news well and more or less spent the next several months on a bender across seven states. This isn’t an exaggeration, I went from Alaksa to California, to Washington, Montana, Virginia, back to Montana then Chicago for a bit.
Now, I’m tending to my garden and trying to attract hummingbirds as a living memorial to the dude.
To say the man had an impact on me would be an understatement and I honestly do not think I’d be here and able to write this had it not been for him taking the time to show some compassion. For those who don’t know, I did not like the motherfucker the first few times we met. He was brash, blunt and did not play around. He was also a well-respected journalist so he had a way with words and a wit to his delivery. Something in my gut told me that I needed to listen to him and it ended up saving my life.
By appearances, you’d never guess that the guy was a legit Buddhist monk either, since most monks don’t wear cowboy boots. The thing is, even when it came to his faith, he was unconventional and instead of blindly subscribing to the ritual and dogma, he had stripped it down to the core. He was never preachy and never gave me advice, instead, he’d get me to start questioning myself and finding my own truth. He didn’t do this to be a dick, he did it so that I’d never have to rely on some bullshit snake oil salesman.
Most of our “Dharma talks” were just us drinking coffee and chainsmoking at his Kitchen table til dawn sometimes. Mostly it was about music and movies but he always had this weird way of throwing something in there to throw me off and leave me spiraling on the walk home. If this means this, what about….whoa.
In the spring of 2004, I moved to California to study at a Tibetan Temple. It should come as no surprise that I was kicked out less than a week after I arrived. I thought he was going to be pissed off or ashamed but he was actually proud of me since I had stood up and questioned the bullshit, it meant that I had been paying attention. He knew they practiced a different style, and he could have told me but he figured a trip to California would be good for me.
One time he decided to really fuck with me right before I moved back to Virginia and told me to that I would be seeing green or to keep my eyes open for green, some shit like that. I thought it was some secret Buddhist thing, but no, he was just forcing me to raise my awareness of the world around me. If I was looking for green everywhere, I was paying more attention and not just drifting through. He let this go on for months despite my repeated calls of “I saw X, was that it?”
So what’s the deal with the Hummingbirds you ask? They were sacred to his Buddhist order, kind of like a mascot. Instead of having some solemn photo of him, I got a couple of Hummingbird feeders which led to me buying some wildflower seeds and a few hanging plants. I do this to practice what he taught me, to cultivate and nurture life, plus I’m absolutely fascinated by em. I also drove 12 hours to Seattle to get his beads that had been in storage for 6 years and I keep a bottle of Shiner Bock cold in the fridge for him.
That’s how I honor him, that’s the same way I honor my Brother and my Grandparents, by living in a way that would make them proud. In no way am I perfect but I am aware and over time, it’s become harder and harder for me to be an asshole. Cheers to you Old Man, thank you for everything.