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 BEAR: Did you hear? Charlie lost his wife. HOOKER: That's a damn shame. How's he doing?  BEAR: About how you'd expect.  HOOKER: I expect he's already forgotten about her and is   thinking about writing a novel about it. BEAR::That's a hell of a thing to say. He must be grieving fierce. HOOKER: He's still a writer. Don't you remember what he said when Mary 's daughter commited suicide? "It's all material." BEAR: How do you mean?  HOOKER: He told her to stop crying and write a poem about it. BEAR: Well, she's a poet. She probably will! HOOKER: But in her own sweet time.  (A pause.) BEAR: I can't decide whether or not to send him a card. HOOKER: Waste of money. BEAR: Listen to Mr. Empathy. What put you in such a foul mood? HOOKER: I made the mistake of watching the news this morning. What's happening to this country is appalling. BEAR: Tell me about it. HOOKER: Anyway, I am sorry for his loss. Tell him when you see him. BEAR: Tell...

Previous: https://thoobasa.blogspot.com/2025/03/when-friend-is-grieving.html HOOKER: I'm sorry for your loss. STEVE: Thank you. BEAR: Steve is trying to figure out what to do with the writing Charlie left behind.  STEVE: There's a ton of it. Journals, novels, poems, a couple plays. Hard copy, stuff on his computer. I had no idea he was so prolific. HOOKER: I thought he was published. STEVE: He published a lot actually. This is in addition to that. But most of what he did publish was by small print on demand publishers. That's just short of self publishing. BEAR: Which gets no respect at all. STEVE: Which dad never understood and I don't either. A rock band cuts their own record in a garage, and it's treated with respect, it's even cool. But publish your own volume of poetry, you just admitted failure. You self publush because real publishers reject you. HOOKER: Have you tried libraries? Maybe his alma mater? STEVE: No interest whatever. He's not famous. He d...

Previous:  https://thoobasa.blogspot.com/2025/03/next-legacy-with-guest.html STEVE: Your suggestions really helped, and I'm so thankful. HOOKER: No trouble at all. BEAR: What did you end up doing? STEVE: Nothing's public yet, but I'm putting as much of his work as I can, including published work, onto a website I'll call "A Literary Archive." HOOKER: Excellent. STEVE: At another website I'm publishing something short every month. BEAR:'Something short? STEVE: Poems, short stories, journal things. BEAR: Sounds like you're going to be busy. STEVE: I found software that will do everything for me. I just have to input things in the order I want. HOOKER: I was going to suggest using software. STEVE: So Hooker, thank you, thank you, thank you. HOOKER: You're very welcome, welcome, welcome. (Pause.) STEVE: So how did you guys meet? HOOKER: Oh boy ... BEAR: We've been friends since grad school. HOOKER: Mid sixties at U of O in Eugene. Over half a c...

 BEAR: When you lost Maggie, did you find yourself regretting that you hadn't told her certain things before she died? HOOKER: Oh yes. I think it's common. BEAR: After burying Liz, I couldn't remember the last time I'd told her I love her. I'm sure she knew I did but I was so upset about not telling her more often that my doctor treated me for depression. HOOKER: My dad was like that. He took me aside and told me not to make his mistake. So Maggie and I didn't have this problem, we told one another daily, often more than that. "Goodnight, I love you." I regreted something else. After retiring, she took up making jewelry. Good, I thought, she has a hobby to keep her busy. I didn't think much about it otherwise. BEAR: So what happened? HOOKER: I went through it after she died. Her jewelry was art! Moreover, she was selling it, she had business records. I should have paid more attention to all this when she was alive. BEAR: No marriage is perfect, is ...

 HOOKER: I really spaced out this morning. Sitting on the couch for over an hour, the dog asleep on my lap, cool jazz playing on the Echo, my thoughts all over the place. BEAR:' Thinking about Maggie? HOOKER: Not so much. This wasn't about grieving her loss. I'm not sure what it was. An escape from boredom maybe. BEAR: I have yet to find an escape from boredom. Our Tuesday ritual, of course. An occasional visit from granddaughter number one. An even more occasional phone call from my son. A home basketball game to watch granddaughter number two. Otherwise I'm climbing the walls. HOOKER: What 's your mind doing then? (Bear laughs.) BEAR: I think your mind is more active than mine. I don't remember thinking about anything. So what were you thinking about? HOOKER: Mostly about my past and about bad moments when I screwed up something. BEAR: I don't remember too much of that. HOOKER: Well, I hardly felt like sharing it at the time.  BEAR: Give me an example. HOO...

 BEAR: Looking back at the time right after Liz died, I don't know how I navigated all the legal things I had to do. HOOKER: I hear you. BEAR: And it's the worse possible time to have to make decisions on legal matters. Fortunately my son stepped up to the plate and really helped me. I try to remember that whenever I'm throwing mental daggers at him for seldom calling me. You didn't have kids to help, how did you do it? HOOKER: Our financial profiles have always been pretty simple. No wall street or investment brokers or real estate for us. We're certainly not your typical capitalist. BEAR: I always thought of you as a socialist. In the closet maybe. HOOKER: Not a socialist. Not a member of any political group. I call myself a Transcendentalist. How many of those have you met? BEAR: Hooker, you definitely are one of a kind. HOOKER: Back to post mortem legal hoops. There's a lot of that that could be done before anyone dies. And get rid of redundancies. How many ...

HOOKER: How long did it take you to get over losing Liz? BEAR: I'm not over it yet. I'll never be over it. What I'm over is thinking about it. Instead I think about how lucky I was to spend so many years with such a remarkable woman. HOOKER: I can't wait to get thete. BEAR: How long has it been? Six months? HOOKER: Eight. It does get easier with time, but time really drags. BEAR: Have you noticed that you experience the passage of time differently in old age? Time drags in the short run but sprints in the long run. HOOKER: I have noticed. There's probably a name for it. BEAR: I predict in a few months you won't be thinking about Maggie every day. HOOKER: I don't want to stop thinking about her. I want to stop thinking I can't go on without her. BEAR: It will happen. Just hang in. HOOKER: Hangin in like Gunga Din. BEAR: You say that a lot. Is. Is it original with you? HOOKER:'Are you serious? You don't recognize it? BEAR: Fraid not. HOOKER:  The k...

 BEAR: Do you miss performing? HOOKER: Of course. But with these hands, I couldn't play if I wanted do. BEAR: Arthritis? HOOKER::I don't know what else to call it. BEAR: What does the doctor call it? HOOKER: I haven't been to a doctor. It doen't hurt that much. BEAR: All the same-- HOOKER: Bear, I've reached the age when the doctor is no longer my ally. Our goals conflict. He wants to keep me alive. I want to die of natural causes, sooner rather than later. BEAR: That almost sounds suicidal. HOOKER: Bullshit it does! BEAR: Sorry. Didn't mean to piss you off. HOOKER: I'm sick and tired of being called morbid or suicidal just because I want to manage my own death. I've had a spectacular life! But it's over. No family left, no kids.  BEAR: What about me? HOOKER: You're my longest friend, but you're not my responsibility.  BEAR: I'm saying I'll miss you. HOOKER: And I'll miss you if you go first. But this doesn't change the bigger...