I Won't Let You Go

We'll let go 'cause we have to, but we won't forget! https://youtu.be/x1S2xWCzNAs

December 2nd, 2015

So ironic - the "Strangers" phenomenon - they can't forget Bard now; hah!!! Spielberg! Hanks! And now, a 2nd run for "Strangers." What could possibly be cooler than Janet Ann walking through O'hare airport, stopping at a news/book store and picking up a physical copy of "Strangers On A Bridge," finding the acknowledgements page, and pointing out to Bard's granddaughter Geneva --"here, see, your grandfather wrote this book! And now it's a movie with a famous actor and director/producer, and that's why it's in this bookstore!!!"

He was a fierce devotee to Quality. He worshiped it. Worked at it; sweat over it. Pushed us towards it, never compromising. Didn't matter what it was: basketball layups, shagging ground balls, mowing the lawn, raking leaves, washing the car, writing an essay. Ironic, 'cause I don't think this literary giant could have even spelled the word "Zen." But he embodied it. Lived it.

None of us needed it of course, but 51 years later, searing evidence that a fanatical devotion to Quality is always worth it. Even if there's no "payday." Even if it's posthumous. It's Zen. It's the journey.

We love you Dad, and are especially proud of you this December 2nd. BTW, relax, it's official now old man: you're immortal :-)

--Pistol

55 Years Later - The Movie: Spielberg and Hanks do Strangers on a Bridge

In keeping with publication tradition, particularly in 1960, the highly acclaimed work Strangers on a Bridge was listed as written by James B. Donovan, principal character in the work. In fact, the book was ghostwritten by Bard E. Lindeman, who travelled to Donovan's office at the end of each work day in the high powered law firm, and proceeded to conduct hundreds of hours of in person interviews. Having collected all the essential facts in person, Lindeman then wrote what would eventually, approximately 55 years later, go on to be a major cinema release starring Tom Hanks, produced by Steven Spielberg. From the inside pages of credits, from the 1960 Simon & Schuster publication of Strangers on a Bridge:

Flowers

It seems that this may become the modern day equivalent of bringing flowers to a cemetery. Crazy? Maybe. But what else to do when you haven't forgotten? Maybe one answer is dinner this Friday for the 3 children, now aging adults! As Les put it, it is a bit like "getting the old band back together" ... or something similar ;-)

Tough Times - Peace and Strength

Dad,

4 years today old man, and it still seems like yesterday.  Guess it will always be that way, eh?

Traded some email with Jan yesterday and this evening.  Glad she and Barney made it over there.  Made me realize, that even in these very tough times that precluded my travel to ATL this year, I still can hear you whispering in my ear encouragement, fuel and grist to keep grinding.  Keep pushing.  I can hear that, and it helps, and so little does these days.

So thanks again old man.  You were always there for me, and today more so than ever.  I love you, and will never, ever forget you.

--Pistol

December 2nd, 2012

It was a fantastic day, and more to follow this weekend ... but for now -- A special thanks to Suzy without whom it never would have happened (crickets!).  Big shout out to JSL who made it all so easy and fun.  You and the bulldog clan are all so beautiful.  Tnx, to Jon Foreman for the ongoing inspiration.  I hope this helps everyone that loved Bard feel close again, if just for a moment ...

"... Give me one more time around

Give me one more chance to see ... "

Please note: I apologize for the low quality of this video, but apparently blogger.com has limited their uploads to 100 megs.  I'm playing with export settings, but for now, this is it.  Higher quality available upon request via DVD, dropbox.com, etc ...

I Keep Rowing ...

December 2nd, 2011

Dear Dad,

I touched down in ATL and it was a cool crisp sunny day, the kind you always loved. I went by the old place at 5428 and you’re no doubt at once pleased and unhappy since the new owners are not quite keeping that front yard up to the standards you always did … doesn’t look bad mind you, just missing the TLC you always injected and which always shone through …

Found a nice little mom and pop shop and had a quick lunch as I looked through some old pictures on the Thinkpad. God I just love this one:

Couldn’t resist sending to LWL later in the day … Packed up and went off to the gravesite and the sun was bright and illuminated the beautiful tombstone brilliantly. Last year I thought about the rough times, the illness, the frustration, the hard work, followed by what seemed like a breakthrough and then a tough, hard stop that brought us to this spot. Those moments are rare now, and instead I pulled out the iphone and fired up Picassa … and began slowly moving through the pictures again.

I must confess, I did have a moment where I considered the ethics and etiquette about parking one’s butt on top of a gravesite and leaning back against a tombstone. After having stood for quite a while, and in the bright sunshine, it was almost a necessity … and I decided it was acceptable behavior given the circumstances. So I hope it wasn’t too squishy for you ;-)

Anyway, there are the pictures from your tribute that are classics, and then the ones from the mom era of course, those black and whites … so many great shots among them. S/He was good, whoever that photographer was … there are some ancient ones as well that I’ve scanned in from various shoeboxes here and there. Shots of Les and Janet and I when we were infants, toddlers, etc. Then are the ones that come later on in the timeline where you and Jan just met; your various trips, etc. I guess that’s where the one from above came from.

I re-read the wonderful piece by Steve Dryer, and Les’ moving bio. You’d be proud of your journalist son who captured the best “angle” for your story, casting it in the light of the health care crisis. I guess there could have been multiple angles. From the journalist’s viewpoint, and from the viewpoint of getting the friggin’ Herald to carry –indeed feature!—your obit, it was a brilliant coup. And it can’t help pass my mind that you’re proud of Les for nailing the story, eternal journalist that you are!

For my part, there was some text I wrote I never got worked in anywhere … it’s not the greatest stuff by any stretch, so cut me some slack OK Mr. Red Ink … but it was something that as we spent time together in the later years that impressed me more and more as time went by. And I was surprised at what a dominant part of your personality it became. True, you could still seemingly get in a fistfight at the drop of a hat, or veer your car onto the shoulder of a road to mow over a row of obnoxious McCain/Palin signs and get in a road chase with a Cadillac … but for the most part, that was replaced by this:

While Bard's journalistic "specialty" clearly became all matters pertaining to aging, as well as the craft of teaching writing, his specialty in life really became one of *reaching* people. Thus, whether he was buying a coffee at Starbucks, a car at a dealership, or checking into the hospital at 5:30 AM for a brain biopsy, the goal was always the same: to use his ability with words, wit and stories to *reach* that person. Almost always, of course, the intent was to illicit some type of grin, chuckle or outright laugh. Some times it was to try and bring another person around to one of his own heartfelt opinions. Rarely, but on occasion, it was simply to make a point ...

I was talking to Jan about being “in the moment.” Such a key to life. Something Jesus was very good at, interestingly. And I thought of the above …

I re-read Jimmy Elders eulogy. The play off the “Outrageous” thing was a no-brainer of course. But I had forgotten about all the comparisons to Jesus. Damn, not bad Dad.

I couldn’t dig up the video tribute I did, but I did listen to the Neil tune from it, Old Man.

Instead of going to the last tune, the beautiful U2 piece MLK, I cranked up the tune that was running through my head and more accurately captured my melancholy of the afternoon. Not that the words are in parallel, but the feeling of the song was perfect, it’s UFO, off of the new Coldplay … As Bono says, “a feeling – so much stronger than a thought” …

The sun was still strong and Jan had mentioned a Starbucks only 4 miles away, and I hadn’t found a flower shop yet, so I left to go get us some coffee. I got stuck in a stupid Winder traffic jam, and Siri took me to 2 flower shops, the first of which didn’t exist, and a second that was closed at 4:55 PM … but heading back, Grande in hand, I picked up a nice Poinsietta from a garden shop. As I drove, the melancholy lifted a bit, I thought of all the java we pounded together, and it made me think of this:

I think that’s bringing a smile, eh? (Still your Pistol, ‘ole man).

Jan was there when I got back, and we shared some important time. How the hell did you luck out like that anyway?! (Better to be lucky than good.) I dunno, but she may have been just the perfect (the only?) one who would put up with your antics for 27 years :-) Anyways, she’s still crazy about you. But at some point, she’ll need to take a page from your own playbook, and go find her a hot thing half her age … LOL … You know that time will come …

But know also that we will never forget you. We all think about you every single day. Every day I get a text or email from one of the kids or talk to Mandy or see her do something that still makes me think “wait’ll Dad hears this…” That used to make me sad. Not any more – it reassures now, because I know you’ve already seen or heard it, and are smiling with us. I love you Dad.