We arrived at dark and found our way up to the first level of Breakneck. As we talked the early light revealed the details of what moments before was a mountain’s silhouette on the opposite side of the Hudson and the beauty of the river. We were then mesmerized by the whale like song of steel on steel echoing across the water as a long freight train started slowly to snake its way north along the river’s edge. It was one of those wondrous moments when the world revealed itself as though for us alone. All seemed to awake as a plane flew by above, cars began to appear and a commuter train sped through the tunnel beneath us. The cool morning air felt good as we began to climb. The clouds like so many islands spaced perfectly in the blue sky above and the Hudson River valley below. I remember how we laughed as we joked that you, Ricky Hill, looked like Randle Patrick McMurphy from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and you said Mark and I looked like the patients from the mental hospital. That day with it’s heat and the gypsy moths defoliating the trees seemed to underscored the odd intensity of life being consumed, of us being alive and how beautiful, grotesque and surreal things could be at times. Rick, that memory has a vividness like few others. It deeply saddens me we will not once again make that climb together. Our friendship, your’s, Mark’s, Jimmy’s and mine, goes back to a time when we were forming and being formed by each other. You were always a touch stone for me, for us, friends like no other. Time went by too fast. I always had a profound respect for your kindness, intelligence, knowledge, your creativity, both musically & artistically, your curiosity and the love and pride you always expressed for your family and friends. I will very much miss you. May peace and love accompany you on your journey my dear friend.
Wednesday April 18, 2018 at 1:37 pm