When I woke this morning, the grey sky was sheeting rain and I could hear it pound on the roof. It was a somber morning, reflecting my mood.
Yesterday, as I was about to go into a meeting with the Associate Dean at the college where I begin to teach on Wednesday, I listened to a voice mail on my mobile. It was Andrew, the son-in-law of my good friend Paul Krich.
As soon as I got the message I knew what would be waiting for me when I returned it. Paul, who had been fighting a stoic battle against cancer, had succumbed.
It was news that stunned me almost more than I could handle.
Years ago, when my now ex-partner and I first had the cottage, we quickly developed a routine. My schedule was more flexible than his; I took the 5:35 out of Penn, went to the house, turned up the heat, laid a fire and then went down to meet the train that left Penn at 7:15.
There was a crowd always at the station, many, like me, waiting for significant others to get off. Almost always in the crowd was an elegant man with what white hair he had, carefully shorn, always dressed elegantly. I noticed he met an equally elegant woman who invariably got off the train with bags of food.
It became our custom to go to the Red Dot for dinner. The other couple did too.
The man and I began to nod to each other while waiting on the platform and then, one night, the elegant woman had too many bags and my ex helped her with them as she was getting off the train.
Not more than fifteen minutes later we were at adjoining tables at the Red Dot. Laughing, I said we really should introduce ourselves and we did. It was Paul.
We pulled our tables together and had a lovely evening that became the first of many.
My partner and I split. Not long after Paul and Lorraine separated.
There came a time in the summer after Paul and Lorraine had separated when Paul and I found ourselves at the Dot, seated at the bar, eating dinner. The second time it happened, we left the bar and got a table, starting a tradition of Saturday evening “dates.”
Paul was one of the most amazing men I have ever met. An avid gardener, he knew so much about horticulture, Whenever we were walking he would point out to me plants and tell me their lineage.
He adored and collected botanical prints. He appreciated antiques and taught me about tramp art. To go with him to an antique show or an auction was to be both entertained and educated.
He savored the fine things of life with palpable pleasure.
He rode a Harley – Davidson and wore biker jewelry.
Once he told me he loved to come to the parties at my cottage because I always had such an interesting mix of people at them. And they were an interesting mix, artists and neighbors, filmmakers, real estate agents and restaurant owners, retired state patrol officers and a former lineman for the local electric company. Young and old, gay and straight, all fun and all welcoming of each other…
Paul was inclusive. He had long ago shed the middle class fears and snobberies that flowed through our world as we were growing up. He embraced people of color, the gay men and women who moved in his orbit, the musicians and the dancers and the artists.
He constantly praised my blogging, encouraging me to keep on at a moment when I was thinking of wrapping it up.
He worked at being fair to everyone, to treating them equally. He had a ready laugh and a constant, wonderful twinkle in his eye.
He was the man you counted upon. Everyone who knew him, knew he could be counted upon, to work to his best to be his best. He was a human being, not flawless, none of us are, but he worked hard at his humanity and inspired me.
He invited me to his mother’s 100th birthday party, not a large party but one dominated by warmth and caring, for Millie, his mother, and for him. I will always look back with warmth at the softly lit room and see Paul sitting at the head of the table smiling, his eyes laughing.
The world is diminished with his passing. I have felt bereft since I heard the news. As I was driving into Hudson today for errands, I realized it seemed impossible to me we would not ever again sit in the garden of the Dot, the fountain splashing, chatting about our weeks and our lives.
I cannot imagine a world without Paul but that world now exists and I will have to learn how to cope with it.
Letter from the Vineyard 
Letter From New York 01 18 2016 Hotel California to present day travails….
January 19, 2016Minnesota Los Angeles Fred Pinkard Rocky II Ron Bernstein Adagio Nik Buian The Eagles Glenn Frey Hotel California Paul Krich David Bowie Donald Trump British Parliament about Trump Martin Luther King Day JFK RFK Nazis Genocide
In the long ago and far away, I left Minnesota and ended up in Los Angeles. Volunteering at a theater as an usher, I met Fred Pinkard, an African American actor who guest starred in television shows and was in Rocky II; never famous but almost always working.
I needed work and he put me together with Ron Bernstein who owned Adagio, a little “Cafe California” kind of restaurant down the street from Paramount. As a favor to Fred, Ron hired me. I was not good. I was actually going to be fired. I could feel it.
Staying up half the night one night, I kept thinking about it and worked out a system. The next day everyone on the staff gathered round me at the end of my shift and asked: what happened? I had worked out a system. I went from being the worst to the best.
Late at night after all the customers had left, Nik Buian, the manager and I, would crank up the music system and pull out all the bottles of wine that had been left behind with something in them. We’d drink them, talk about life and fold napkins for the next day, sometimes to four in the morning.
We’d listen to The Eagles non-stop. They were his favorite and I can never hear “Hotel California” without thinking of those nights with Nik, folding napkins, learning about wines and sharing good times with a good friend.
Eagles founder Glenn Frey died today at 67. Not much older than I am.
I am surrounded by mortality this week. Wednesday I will be giving a eulogy for my friend Paul, much of it written but in need of a bit of burnishing. My friend Paul, David Bowie, Glenn Frey and I now find I am at the time of my life when friends are beginning to go and it is sobering.
Life is sobering. As I am sitting in my dining room the world is full of all kinds of travails. I know that and am frustrated because I can do so little to change any of it.
This morning I had a conversation with an old work friend who confessed to me how scared he is about this coming election. No one appeals to him; they all frighten him and he will vote based on which one frightens him less.
This is not good. It seems worse than the choice between the lesser of two evils.
Extraordinarily there was a debate in Parliament today about whether to ban Donald Trump from the UK because of “hate speech.” Now it is the purview of the Home Secretary to ban someone from the UK but it was an extraordinary opportunity for the Brits to weigh in on the American election process. One member of Parliament described Trump as “an idiot.”
He is far from that. He is manipulative, decisive and pandering. He is bringing out the worst of us. He reminds me of the crass politicians of ancient Rome and that’s not good.
What is good is that today is Martin Luther King Day and we are remembering an extraordinary man who changed the fabric of American life. He taught black Americans to move beyond their fears and called to white Americans to be the best they could be. When he died I was but a boy and already reeling from the death of JFK. His death and that of RFK mangled my mind, probably for the rest of my life. I still reverberate with all those deaths from the ’60’s when I was young and realizing the world for the first time, making my first realizations of what life was about and what life seemed to be about in those days was killing.
And it hasn’t changed. We have not had many high profile murders as those but we have fallen into the grinding news of killings on a daily basis all over the world, killing that is disgusting, motivated by twisted religious beliefs as the Nazis twisted people into genocide.
Tags:Adagio, British Parliament about Donald Trump, David Bowie, Donald Trump, Fred Pinkard, Genocide, Glenn Frey, Hotel California, JFK, Los Angeles, Martin Luther King, Mat Tombers, Mathew, Mathew Tombers, Minnesota, Nazis, Nik Buian, Paul Krich, RFK, RockyII, Ron Bernstein, The Eagles
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