Uncle Roger's Notebooks of Daily Life
My life is, to me, ripe with frequent challenges, occasional successes, spontaneous laughter, adequate tears, and enough *life* to last me a lifetime. To you, however, it surely seems most pedestrian. And therefore, I recycle the name I used previously and call this my Notebooks of Daily Life. Daily, because it's everyday in nature, ordinary. These conglomeration of events that are my life are of interest to me because I live it, perhaps mildly so to those who are touched by it, and could only be of perverse, morbid curiosity to anyone else. Yet, I offer them here nonetheless. Make of them what you will, and perhaps you can learn from my mistakes.
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Friday, December 03, 2004
Once upon a time, I was a young, inexperienced, person with no desire to significantly expand my horizons. Then I met Harry.
I met Harry in a ceramics class at City College where he was doing some amazing things with clay. We then ran into each other on BART and began talking. We ended up going roller skating together and began hanging out.
At the time, I was rather hesitant to try new things (to put it mildly.) Harry pushed and prodded me into all kinds of new experiences. He introduced me to indian food, gamelan music, Police Squad!, and more. Harry even got me to take a tap dance class, something I'd always wanted to do. Harry taught me a lot about cooking and we enjoyed many evenings together making pasta from scratch.
In addition to the rollerskating, we did a lot of biking together too. We took a trip across the Golden Gate Bridge once, to a lovely spot called Black Sand Beach. The problem with Black Sand Beach is that the water is cold -- damn cold. Harry still rides, and I'm hoping we can ride together again sometime soon -- this time with Jared along as well.
Harry does wondrous things with ceramics, has (iirc) built a harpsichord, and cuts hair. He is an incredibly creative and caring person. He plays various flutes, the ukelele, and probably a whole host of other instruments. At Thanksgiving dinner, he was infectiously excited about his upcoming trip to Pasadena to play with a number of other flutists; he would be playing a vintage renaissance bass flute. The anticipation he had for his trip and the music he would be playing was something everyone felt -- and shared.
Harry remains an inspiration and a valuable friend. He will continue to be for a very long time, I hope. Thanks, Harry!