I want to say this because he’s been on my mind…and it’s my little tribute.
Speaking of monikers…a musket is a male sparrow hawk and I know that’s why he chose it. He loved all them birds! He insisted that I read (we talked about books a lot) JA Baker’s “The Peregrine.” So I did. I have it here and maybe it’s time to reread it again…in his memory.
He also hated emojis. I used to “tease him” by sending myself as a little Bitmoji…a way more obnoxious version. He said I was “zany” and “quirky” and a “tough chick” and I’m sure he must have rolled his eyes with so much of my mishegoss.
Yes, he taught me some Yiddish words, which I’m sure I used wrong. And oh boy, did he like to write! He was a very good pen pal, and because he was so brilliant - and prolific - he left me in the dust. But still, he tolerated me (a mere meshugener?) like the good “gentleman” he was. His word.
I joked that he was my “next door neighbor” (MA and NH) and I might just pop in one day to say hi. (Was trying to scare him and I never would, really). We shared lots of stories (he had more than me), and we disagreed on most of our art tastes. We both loved Arty, though. And we both shared the same kind of politics which got “tangly” once we bumped up against my feminism. So I tried to leave it out of our yakking but he always managed to drag me in (like Al Pacino in The Godfather). I think in the end, in this regard, we exhausted each other.
I last wrote him (2021?) after his beloved Lee died. She was his “little sister” from the Wet Canvas debate forum, known as victorialis. (You can go over to that site, or find another here, to read his gorgeous tribute.) He felt things very, very deeply, and remembered details about his past with such clarity and precision. This was another way we differed. I skim along on the surface, throwing away everything.
In that last email exchange, he asked about my upcoming move to NM and I said “maybe I’ll send you some pretty pictures.” I never did. He once lived here, in Albuquerque, on Lead Street, and of course, I’ll never be able to pass it without remembering him.
I thought of him as a curmudgeon on the outside, with a squishy and kind heart on the inside. Which we discussed.
Just…Oy.