November 15, 2012
I lost a friend last Sunday
In 2011 I met a remarkable man who I
quickly became proud to call my friend. Our friendship began after he
responded a few times to the question I always close my columns with:
"What do you think?". He shared his opinions candidly and
didn't always agree with me. He was always respectful...even when his
feedback sometimes began with: "you're full of baloney"
(while using another word). I learned to value his opinions whether
he agreed with me or not because he always made me think more deeply
about the issue at hand. He even made me change my mind a time or
two...which is a real achievement:-) He called one day to invite me
to his home for a general discussion meeting with he and a few of his
friends on a topic I had recently written about.
He told me the names of the other
invitees, all of whom I knew. I called one of them and asked about
him and this meeting. I was told my soon to be new friend was
severely disabled with Muscular Dystrophy and was no longer able to
get out. As a result of his desire to stay connected intellectually
he liked to get a few friends with different perspectives together in
his home to debate ideas of mutual interest.
I accepted the invitation, and I
remember leaving my home on the day of the meeting feeling sort of
proud of myself for so generously sharing my time. Little did I know
just how wrong I was because it turned out he was the generous one
for sharing the little energy he had remaining to allow others to be
exposed to his passion and wisdom.
I walked in the front door of his home
and met my soon to be friend. He was completely wheel chair bound and
only had a little use of his hands. He welcomed me with his gravelly
sounding voice and big smile and I almost instantly forgot he was
disabled. It was obvious his mind was clear and he was very smart. He
sat at the head of the dining room table and asked me as the newly
invited guest to sit at the opposite end. Four others joined us that
day and the discussion began. My friend orchestrated the discussion
in order to draw divergent opinions out of all attendees. What he did
not want, it became quickly clear, was some polite politically
correct banter. He wanted to see and hear passion for positions
backed up with credible facts. BS was quickly detected by him and
called out. The two hours or so flew by and I remember leaving his
home feeling personally enriched in ways I couldn't have imagined as
I left my own home earlier that day.
Thus began a friendship mostly shared
by computer and phone for the next year or so. He initiated most of
these interactions via telephone or email to provide feedback on one
of my recent articles. Sometimes he liked what I wrote and sometimes
he did not...and either way, he said so as directly as possible. I
learned very quickly to never discount his criticism because almost
always, in retrospect, if I had thought of things from his
perspective I would have written a better article. I even began
occasionally to send him draft copies of articles and asked for his
thoughts. Again, he was the prefect foil. He read every article
carefully and told me his immediate reactions. I deeply valued both
his ideas and perhaps even more, his candor.
I learned my new friend, now in his
80s, had been a very talented artist for his entire life...this
despite first beginning to suffer from MD in his early thirties. He
worked as a commercial artist in Chicago for most of his career after
emigrating to America from Belgium as a young man . His home was
filled with beautiful paintings he had created. After one look at his
work it didn't take an art critic to understand how talented he was.
I only went to his home for a few of
these gatherings but every one was a pleasure. Then about two weeks
ago I received a phone call from my friend to inform me he did not
expect to be able to communicate much longer. He told me he could no
longer even use his hands and had to take so much pain management
medication he could no longer function mentally. He was quite lucid
that day and I can only imagine he had to skip his medication in
order to have our last conversation. He ended the conversation by
telling me goodbye and thanking me for our friendship. I cried to
myself but never let him know it because he would have called me a
sissy!
My good, kind, smart, and talented
friend, I know you are now in warm sunshine with a few of your
favorite disagreeable pals, and canvas and painting supplies close at
hand. I hope you have a glass of Belgian beer and some of those great
Belgian cookies on the table beside you. You are greatly missed pal.
To: Al Van Cleven who is free at last
from the shackles of MD, and his loving wife Bonnie, who inspired all
who knew them with her loving care. Nobody could have have done a
better job of taking care of a loved one.
Mike Tower