David, David, David -how many years ago - We celebrated your 50th birthday at my home - I was such a young thing then. You and I both worked at Evergreen, and were single parents who lived a block apart. When you became the primary parent to your sons, we I developed our own “scotch klatch” a couple nights a week. Sometimes we talked about cooking and parenting and dating. Sometimes we talked about dogs and fishing and bicycling. I asked you questions about “being a man” because I had sons and needed information. You asked me questions about “being a woman” because you had sons and were trying to be a father and a mother. You asked me once how women managed to do so many things at once. I told you I thought boys were raised to do one thing at a time - like “mow the lawn”, and girls were raised to do many tasks at once. Trying to manage your life and all the tasks of parenting was a struggle for you. But you raised amazing and successful sons - probably like all of us, in spite of yourself and your blustering.
You were stubborn and loud and pedantic and kind and funny and gentle and powerful and blustering and loud and appreciative and needy and thoughtful and angry and sad and loving and generous and suffering and kind of lost in your later years.
You always needed purpose David - students to teach, music to listen to, books to read, politics to argue, social justice issues to push and women and children to love. You did it all, David. Pain and pleasure. As you arrive in whatever mystical place you find, be at peace. Be still. We all loved you. (...)