FAREWELL, MY FRIEND

Photo by S. Auberle

Rain keeps falling, another north wind wails this morning, as Spring  glooms on.   The little gray cat drapes herself across the back of my chair, purring as I write.  She's good for me, because, these days, like so many others, I turn sad at the thought of my teacher, Norbert Blei--my mentor, my friend, leaving.  He--this shaman of words, who taught me to bring out what was inside, who believed in me and never stopped telling me so.  Norbert disliked intensely the word "magic."  Never use it, he growled, or angels or sunsets, roses, all those old hackneyed cliché words.  But sorry, Norb, I have to say it--there was no one more full of magic than you.  The Pied Piper of words, images, stories--we followed along, joyfully, exuberantly, behind  you--a long string of would-be writers and you believed in every one of us.

Today is the birthday of William Shakespeare, another master of words.  Tonight the full moon will light up the world, if it can get through the clouds, but our light is gone--at 8:18 a.m., just a few minutes ago, Norbert, with Jude his love, by his side, passed.  Suddenly, there are no more words.