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Toast November 4, 2010

Posted by indigobunting in Uncategorized.

Dewey died. On Saturday.

I found out Saturday night. Deb and I had sardined our way back from the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Keep Fear Alive. We were in for the night. I checked my e-mail. There it was, from Sue, subject line: A Journey. She’d gotten word from Noah, his son. None of us even knew he was sick.

Dewey died. I had just been thinking about him. How could I not, visiting our old stomping grounds? I was thinking of all of them, the circle of friends who burned brightly together before we geographically scattered: Arizona, Vermont, Florida, Chile. Dewey and Maria Elena, at last in Chile.

And just in September, too, near his birthday, I was alone in a bar far from home, girding myself for the next thing. I ordered a Jameson, toasted Dewey. Happy birthday, old friend. I don’t think I’d ever had that drink without him.

I haven’t seen him in fifteen years.

The day we met: A guy walks into a high school graduation picnic. A blissfully married woman (me) is suddenly all eyes and distracted glances and who-is-that? She must meet him. She chats him up and asks for a ride on his Harley. Her wish is granted.

Dewey died. When we left for Vermont, he bestowed upon us glorious gifts: for Tim, a fid he’d used on a Greenpeace ship; for me, a stick I’d long admired that he’d carved by a campfire—the dragon head on one end twisting and spiraling to a penis head on the other. It graces our bedroom wall.

Dewey died. If I say it enough times, maybe I’ll begin to grasp it. Dewey died. Dewey died. Dewey died.

Perhaps this bottle of Jameson will help.


1. Craig (Maito Sewa Yoleme) - November 4, 2010

I can’t tell you how much this touched me. I wasn’t nearly as close with him as you and Tim were, but I admired him greatly, and remember his infectious smile and his great love of good music. I still have the arrow he gave me so many years ago. Thank you for your perfect tribute.

2. Mali - November 4, 2010

I’m so sorry.

3. Bridgett - November 4, 2010

I’m sorry–I have a hard time grasping death myself, keep expecting to see folks again someday, just walk through the door.

But that’s so lovely what you have to say.

4. Alesia - November 5, 2010

So sorry. A journey for them, and a journey for us who are left behind.

5. helen - November 7, 2010

I’m so sorry too Indigo. I haven’t experienced anything similar, but I imagine I would have the same feeling of disbelief. (And, by the way, I like the way you convey that feeling.)

6. Dona - November 8, 2010

I had a (double) glass of Jameson (neat) on Friday night. I must have toasted him early.

7. Lali - November 8, 2010

I’m sorry you lost such a good friend.

8. Deloney or Wayne - November 10, 2010

I’ve lost two friends so far. One death was drug related, the other Aids related. Never easy.

9. LisaS - November 16, 2010

i lost a friend from grad school just a couple of years after we graduated. it’s always a bit stunning. and yes, i drank a toast to him.

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