My friend, LARRY WAKEFIELD, has been gone more than a year now. I still miss him, think about him a lot, remember little things that we shared in common.
Yesterday as I was pulling on my socks, I accidentally had the logo on one of them facing out where people might notice it. I thought of Larry immediately, the time we discovered that we both had the same habit of always turning sock logos inward rather than go around advertising some sock maker’s product. Socks, after all, should be private business.
I took off the offending sock and exchanged it with its partner so that both logos pointed in toward each other. I couldn’t help smiling. It was just a small matter, but Larry would have approved.
Today at 1:00 I’ll speak to residents, staff, and friends at The Bungalows at Chesterfield Village in Springfield. One who has recently moved there, MARYANN WAKEFIELD, has been one of my closest friends over a lifetime. Her husband, LARRY, and I met in 7th grade at Jarrett Junior High School and were rarely apart for long until he died this year. It was Maryann who recommended me to the program director at The Bungalows, and I gladly accepted.
I was asked what I might talk about. I had to think about that. These people are my age. They’ve lived long lives, raised families, climbed corporate ladders, achieved goals, known love and loss, heartache and joy. Like me, they have aches and pains and many, also like me, probably can’t hear well. I hope someone in the audience can still hear. Otherwise we’ll have a yelling contest at 1:00!
So what should I talk about? Poetry. Never too old for poems. My mother published a slender volume of her poems when she was 95. My friend Maryann is a published novelist. I’ll talk about how to write poems. Why they might want to. I’ll take some examples of mine that reflect on my own experiences. I’ve written about losing a friend, the pleasures of gardening, the love of parents, remembering the past. We all have plenty to think about and to write about. My mother kept a legal pad and pen handy. As she approached 100, she wrote about family history so important details wouldn’t be lost to future generations.
I don’t think I’ll need a hard outline for my talk today. I’ll be among friends. All I’ll need to do is look at them, looking at me, and the words will come.
Please know how much your words of sympathy have meant to SANDY and me the last couple of days. She and I, and JEFF, will fly home and join ROBIIN to be with LARRY’S grieving family for the funeral on Saturday. I wrote the obituary, which will appear Thursday in the Springfield News-Leader.
Also on Thursday, I’ll receive the Celebrate Literacy Award from ILA/MLA. I’ll attend the ceremony, being held in Columbia, Missouri during a Write to Read Conference, by Zoom at 4:00 p.m. CST. The next day we’ll head for home.
Today it’s back to the long story. I may not complete it this week but am that close to the end. I’m eager to get it out there.
This poem appeared in CONNECTING DOTS, published in 2007 by Boyds Mills Press. It was about no one in particular then, but it suits my mood at the moment.
Watching Geese
Geese fly over.
I think of him
honking silly like a goose.
The geese never landed
but we didn’t care.
Who needs
a friend like that?Who needs a guy
who cracks you up
with jokes you never tell your mom,
and you wonder where
he gets such stupid stuff?The halls at school
are full of kids,
but no one looks for me.No one tells me like it is,
borrows shirts that disappear,
knows our house as well as his.Now he’s gone and won’t be back.
I’m watching geese, thinking of him.
Do I miss his funny grin?
Who needs a friend like that?
Children's Author David L. Harrison's Blog 