A Celebration of Eddy Eschner

I Feel My Brother

2010-08-03T09:58:00.000-07:00

I feel my brother
In the desert.

I feel his strength
In the heat of the sun.

I hear his laughter
In the coyote’s howl.

I see his knowledge
In the rock formations and
Cumulus clouds.

I see his friends
In the lizards, snakes, bugs and spiders.

I feel his breath
In the passing breeze.

I see his eyes
As I gaze at the moon.

I feel his love
Embedded in the stillness.

I hear his heart beat
In the flapping wings of a hawk.

I feel his presence
In the ancient enduring landscape.

The one who taught me to see the subtle beauty,
Now is the subtle beauty.
A beauty sometimes missed, no,
Misunderstood.
He is everywhere and no where
Like the loudness of the desert’s silence.

I feel my brother
In the desert.

My tears drop,
Sizzle and disappear
Into the sand.

Eve Eschner Hogan, in honor of Ed
7/25/10

Rent-A-Dad

2009-04-16T09:42:00.000-07:00

I met Ed at Lockheed, just as he was finishing his Master’s Thesis. As he emerged from the amniotic fluid of academia, Ed was searching for an environmental career with meaning and long-term impact. Ed wanted his own program to develop and vision to implement. When he arrived at the Community College and established the popular environmental technology program, it was clear to everyone that Ed found his niche. Ed was the kind of leader and teacher that people and students wanted to follow. His innate ability to read people between the lines and bring out the best in everyone, despite their personal limitations and doubts, made him a great teacher and leader. He always placed others well-being before his own and it showed.

As I tripped down memory lane reviewing the photos on the Blog, the 1993 raft trip down Desolation Canyon looked mighty familiar, and so did Ed, lying there on the river bank taking in the sun’s rays. This story is for Ed’s daughters:

When my kids, Amber and Ross, were little, they spent weeks on the Colorado River with Ed learning geology and “horsing around” in duckies and inflatables in the warm sun and clear water. One year, our rafting group decided to do an extended weekend trip down the Lower Colorado. Amber and Ross’ dad was traveling, so they asked Ed if he could be “Rent-A-Dad” for the weekend to help guide our raft safely down the river. Ed stepped up to the task, and played Rent-A-Dad for 4 days to Amber and Ross. He helped maneuver us around dangerous holes and rooster-tail waves, pitched tents, cooked grub, read bedtime stories, and packed loads of gear. At 4 years, Ross was a special challenge, because he was forever missing up a side canyon or hanging out on a rock ledge. Like a dog, Ross wanted to leave his mark in every corner of the River. Before we left a camping or rest spot, we would invariably have to search for Ross, and then, admonish him for sneaking off from the group. On this weekend, and many other rafting trips, Ed fondly earned his title as Rent-A-Dad, and a special place in our hearts and memories.

I can only hope that Ed is waiting for each one of us to greet him, again, for another memorable raft trip. Until then, I will cherish my memories.

Beth Moore

A Year Has Passed....Wendy Reis

2008-11-08T09:43:00.000-08:00

For me, A year has not been enough time, for time to heal a broken heart. I know that Ed would not want sadness. Sometimes I think he didn't realize how he touched the lives of those he had contact with. He was just Ed.

I can honestly say that I've thought of him each and every day this past year in some way. One morning a butterfly flew across the hood of my car and I remembered his intnese love of Monarch butterflies. Songs would come on the radio. He liked Five for Fighting. I bought him their CDs 2 years in a row for his birthday. Memories of the Eagles and us singling full blast and dancing around as we got chores done. These memories warm my heart but they also bring tears. I just can't help it. I don't want to stop missing him. I don't want him to become a distant memory.

He was concerned about his youngest daughter. He would be deep in thought and look at me and quietly ask, Do you think she'll remember me? I pray she does. Wendy is wonderful and will help her, I'm sure of that.

I remember Mothers Day 2007, the phone rang and it was Ed wishing me a Happy Mothers Day. Those random calls. His days were busy and yet not too busy for friends. And a friend he was.

I loved him. Not in the romantic way that I love my husband. The heart is big enough for all kinds of love. He was a male best friend.

And so the beginning of another year.
For all friends and loved ones, you know the depth of feelings from which this comes. You all have your own bottomless well of stories and memories.
We all have the hope of meeting again in a better place.
But for now, Life goes on.

A message from Laverne Dalford

2008-02-02T09:10:00.000-08:00

I am writing to let you know I met Eddy in the airport. Both of us were waiting to be put on the plane to back to our homes. Wendy was getting him a sandwich to eat, when she returned we were bonded. We promised to keep in touch with each other. He asked me for my address and phone number and told me his sister was writing a book and wanted to send me one. It was called Chicken Soup for the African American Soul. It wasn't long before I received it.

He kept his word to me until he passed. I will never forget his loving, kind spirit. In Matthew 11-28, Jesus says "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Eddy's labored a long time even if he wasn't well, his work was finished here on earth and Jesus called him home to rest. Psalm 116-15 says "Precious in the sight of the lord is the death of his spirits." He was precious to me also and his family. He often talked to me about how he loved them and how he was getting to be a little more than Wendy could handle. He wanted to be able to help her more than he could. He knew she loved him and the children also.

In Timothy 4-7, Paul said, "I have fought a good fight. I have finished my course. I have kept the faith." That's what Eddy did. He fought a good fight with his illness. He finished his course, the time for his departure was at hand. These few words cannot express how I felt about him. I thank God for Wendy sharing him with me. He will never be forgotten.

Sweet Words from Herman van Betten

2008-02-02T08:42:00.000-08:00

Every time my wife Pat and I look out of the windows into the garden, we think of Eddy because the more than one hundred Irises there remind us of the bucket of Irises Eddy gave us many years ago.

I had the honor of working with him for a number of years when I was dean of the Henderson Campus of CCSN. Eddy was one of the most popular and admired professors and the founder of the Environmental Technology program at the college. As a spokesperson for the environmental movement, Eddy was at the beginning of environmental awareness that has culminated in an increasing interest among students and residents of Southen Nevada.

He also inaugurated a degree program in Wastewater Treatment, a program that was very popular among professionals there with degrees in other areas, but who needed more specific coursework in their chosen profession. As a result Eddy and I were frequent visitors at Wastewater Treatment plant on Pabco Road. Eddy once pointed out to me a sign on one of the technicians' desk that read: "It may be shit to you, but it is my bread and butter."

Both of us were invited one time to a banquet of the Wastewater Treatment Association where I received a plaque honoring me with the "annual fecal award," an award that really should have gone to Eddy since he did all the work. It did show that people in that field have a good sense of humor.

When we got a tour of the plant, the general manager took us outside and showed the vast area around the plant with many luscious green acres, sprinkled by "grey water" of the plant. The manager then told us: "In twenty years developers will build thousands of homes here then they'll sue us for the smell that will permeate every home." And that, of course, is exactly what happened and we did not have to wait twenty years.

Eddy's untimely passing is a loss not only to his family but to all of us in Southern Nevada. I understand that his once successful Environmental Studies Program has withered into nothing, just at the time when global warming threatens to make life so much harder for our children and grandchildren.

Not only was Eddy a brilliant scientist and visionary, he was also a magnificent, kind and always cheerful human being. Eddy we will miss you.

Awesome story from Gail Patton

2008-01-09T23:36:00.000-08:00

Hello.

My name is Gail Patton. I am writing to express my deepest condolences for the loss of a very special man in your life, Eddy Eschner. And to say thank you to his family and friends for sharing.

I met Eddy in the autumn of 1980 when I was still Gail Lynn Marks of San Diego and he was going to SDSU. We became close, and spent several months that semester visiting and exchanging poetry, listening to music, laughing, hanging around, and enjoying each other’s friendship. I met Eddy’s good friend Joe back then and, if I am not mistaken, I think it might have been around that time that Joe and some other friends originated the Ensenada-Tecate Bike Ride?? Do I have it right? My memory is not what it used to be.

What I do remember is Eddy was a gem. And I feel very privileged to have known him. In reflecting on the Eddy I knew, certain characteristics and memories come to mind.

He was the first man I ever knew who preferred hot tea over coffee, and I thought that was really cool.

He first noticed me at a party when I was thrown into his apartment swimming pool fully clothed.

He was fond of irises, so one time I used black India ink and an old-fashioned fountain pen to draw him his own bouquet on a big sheet of paper.

He made beautiful hand-crafted jewelry. I still have the silver pendant he gave me, which he named Yin and Yang.

And he wrote poetry almost every day with a dull pencil on lined notebook paper, folded it neatly and mailed it to me less than 10 miles away in small plain envelopes.

(I recognize the one on this website dated 12/12/80 as one that he shared with me then.)

It was from my friendship with Eddy that I began to enjoy Stephen Stills (solo) and Jim Morrison and The Doors. That year before he left for winter break, Eddy gave me Morrison’s biography No One Here Gets Out Alive for Christmas. He had written a poem on the inside front and back cover. That book has seen better days, but it’s still in my possession.

Eddy was very focused on his studies when we met, and had started talking even then about moving on to earn his master’s at UNLV. I myself was not a student, and perhaps he sensed my lack of direction. My focus back then seemed to be on fun and having a lot of it. Although we never again spent as much time together as we did those first several months, we remained friends for a long while thereafter -- Eddy was always very good about touching down every so often just to say hey.

In 1986 I had my daughter Rose, and she and I moved to Ohio when she was about a year old. Her dad joined us a few months later. When I first learned I was pregnant, the obstetrician estimated a due date of October 26. I said to the doctor, “Well that’s a relief.” “What’s a relief?” he asked. “My baby is sure to be a terrific person, because one terrific guy I know has the same birthday.”

Eddy wrote to me shortly after we moved, “Living life through the eyes of a child must be one of God’s greatest gifts!!!” He sent that message in a card along with a Polaroid snapshot of his smiling face, at the bottom of which he’d scrawled “Self Portrait…” clearly taken while holding the camera at arms’ length.

Another time (when I was still living in Solana Beach) he sent me a postcard from Hawaii (My recollection is he was there with his sister visiting someone else from his family? I don’t know for sure.) What I do know is he was enthralled with all the natural beauty and wrote about swimming in the cool, clear blue water…

The last time I heard from Eddy was I think right around 1990 -- around the time I just before I was pregnant with my second daughter, Audrey. He sent me a copied cassette tape of Roxy Music’s Avalon album with a note.

Over the years I wondered about Eddy from time to time. I wondered What was he doing? Was he happy living in the desert with the rocks and howling coyotes? I wondered Did he have someone special in his life? I always hoped he did. And I always knew that wherever he was living and whatever he was doing, he would be enjoying himself immensely.

Some years, when October 26 rolled around, I would remember my friend and think “Happy Birthday Eddy, wherever you are.”

Time went on and I thought of my friend less and less often. I was working. Raising two girls. Finding my focus. Going to college. Taking care of business.

In 2004 our family moved to Arizona mainly so Rose, then 18, could attend college at

U of A in Tucson, but also because we wanted live again in the southwest. For two San Diegans, born and bred, the whole snow shoveling thing had long ago lost its appeal.

Life continued with its ups and downs and I couldn’t even tell you the last time I thought about Eddy. Until he suddenly popped into my thoughts out of nowhere in the middle of this past September.

Here’s why. It seemed like every time I switched on the radio it was The Doors. Or Roxy Music. Or Stephen Stills. Day after day. After day. It went on for a couple of weeks. Then it stopped. Just like that. From that time on Eddy remained firmly in my mind, and I found myself wondering why.

Weeks passed.

In November I spent a weekend alone house/pet sitting for a friend in Yuma.

I woke up that Saturday morning, walked into her study where my cell phone had been recharging all night, and was astonished to see the closet doors flung wide open, boxes pulled forward on the shelves, and a silk California Poppy in an acrylic vase resting on the cherry wood desk. A desk which had been bare the night before.

I said to no one there, “Huh! What’s this?” examining the boxes and picking up the vase. I placed it on a shelf, slowly closed the closet doors, and left the room feeling puzzled. This was a safe and secure neighborhood. Robbery was doubtful, and besides, the dog would have gone nuts. I couldn’t explain it, and soon forgot all about it.

That same night I was still on my own, house-sitting. I was lying on the couch in the living room, chatting with my niece on the phone, gazing absently in the direction of the kitchen, and nodding my head to whatever she was saying.

Suddenly the kitchen lights blazed on.

This time the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

I wondered if this 5-year old condo could be haunted.

A few nights later on my way home from work, Stephen Stills came on the radio again singing Southern Cross. I thought, “That’s it! Enough is enough! I am going straight home and I am going to Google Eddy Eschner. Maybe I’ll be able to find some way to get in touch with him and see what the heck he’s been doing all these years.”

And I did.

And I cried.

And when I was done reading the news, I explored the website and all of my questions from all the years were answered --

I saw a beautiful and happy smiling wife.

I saw beautiful and happy smiling daughters.

And I saw a beautiful and happy smiling Eddy.

I saw the life I always knew he’d been living.

And I was so happy for him and for all of you.

And I am so deeply sorry for your loss.

Yes. All my questions were answered. Including one that had been resting below the surface of my subconscious, hidden until that very moment –

It was Eddy touching down for one last time while I was house-sitting on November 17^th.

Thank you all for sharing.

And thank you for making it possible for me to share my story with you.

Gail

January 9, 2008

Yuma, Arizona

From Wendy's Parents, Ron and Jean

2008-01-09T23:29:00.000-08:00

Living near Yosemite National Park for the past twenty-seven years, Ron and I have become familiar with the history of John Muir who was instrumental in preserving this natural wonder. We have had the enjoyable experience of listening to a local, Lee Stetson, protray John Muir in dress and Scottis accent as he performs a monologue covering Muir's life, travels and his passion regarding the need to nurture and preserve nature. In one of John Muir's books he states, "I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out 'til dundown, for going out, I found, was really going in."

I can envision this statement also coming from Eddy, our son-in-law. Though their environs were vastly different, Muir of the mountains and Eddy of the desert, how alike they were in their desire to preserve the gifts of nature—of God, if you will.
To paraphrase Saint John Chrysostom:
He who we love and lose,
Is no longer where he was before.
He is now where we are.

Ron and Jean Kiser

From Sharon Smith

2007-12-05T19:07:00.000-08:00

Hello Lauralyn,

I’m hoping that you remember me. I have been meaning to get in touch with you for some happy work related news. And then I got word about Eddy. I spent some time on the Eschner family website. Thanks for your hand in creating it and making it available. How far reaching Eddy’s influence was, and is. I spoke with him a few years ago when I first heard about his illness. He said to live every day. His message was so simple, and yet so powerful. I made a practice of sending him little prayers most mornings during our “minute of silence” before teaching my middle school art class. No matter how nuts the kids were, I was grounded in living my life, my calling. I want you to know that my thoughts are with you and your family. Take care.

Sincerely,

Sharon M. Smith

Memories from Don Bolland

2007-11-30T11:44:00.000-08:00

On Thanksgiving Day my Mom told me that she had seen the newspaper article about Eddie. I was shocked and deeply saddened by the news of His death and have been thinking about Eddy and your family ever since. I would like to express my heartfelt sympathy to all of you.

I have fond memories of the few short times I spent with him. I think Eddy was a Senior in High School when I was a Freshman but we both ran Cross Country and often times ran together on our long runs after school. I remember in particular one very hot September afternoon (100+range) we ran out to Anaheim Lakes from the school and climbed under a barb wire fence for a quick refreshing dip in the water before heading back. Another time took us to an orange grove where we enjoyed a couple of fresh picked oranges before our run back to the school. One time we ran through Hillcrest Park and ended up exploring the long underground culvert that runs under Brea Blvd. Whenever I ran with Ed it was more of an adventure than just a training run.

I also remember that after Eddy discovered that I had done some back-packing he invited me to go with him to climb Mt. Baldy. We had a great time hiking the 8 mile long trail to the summit, at just over 10k ft. Every trip I go on from my first trip at the age of 5 to this day I have struggled with altitude sickness which hits me at exactly 10k ft and last about two days. On this trip, as usual, I began getting the associated headache and nausea. We got within sight of the summit, maybe only ¼ mile away, but I could not continue on. I insisted as adamantly as I could for him to go on and gain the summit, but Ed would not leave me and instead found a good site, pitched our tent and made some hot soup for me. He showed great concern and compassion for me and even the next morning would not go on without me.

I have dozens of other momentary memories, short flashes and images, like when he put on his Bee out-fit and opened up some bee hive boxes down in the park below your house. Another time Ed invited me to help him do a landscaping job and paid me well for my effort. We must have dug 100 holes on a slope to plant a bunch of juniper plants. Other memories include times spent just hanging out while waiting for our respective events in cross country.

It’s been a long time and a lot has happened since we last spoke. I considered letting it go but felt compelled to write because of the warm memories I have of your brother and with you too for that matter.

Take care,

Don Bolland

From Stephanie Haberman Batzel—FUHS

2007-11-28T00:40:00.000-08:00

Dearest Eddy,

Such fond memories of long ago….
Back in high school with the birds and the bees.
We shared many fun days, especially doing things after school. Walks through Hillcrest Park and the fields on the way home are my most fond memories.
Our last conversation, only a few months ago, reminiscing about the bees in your backyard. Remembering one day after school you put on your beekeeper outfit, covering yourself from head to toe. I sat on the bench nearby, in awe but did as you suggested. I didn’t move while you tended to the bees. They were swarming all around you. You told me not to worry, that they wouldn’t come my way or bother me. It was a good thing as I sat only a few feet away, completely unprotected yet never bothered by the bees. They were your friends and trusted your every move.
You will remain in my heart as fond memories from days gone by. I thank you for the life you shared with so many.
My thoughts and prayers are with your family and friends.
May your spirit soar high in the sky with the winged creatures you so loved.

Stephanie Haberman Batzel

Poem from cousin Lane Eschner

2007-11-19T16:53:00.000-08:00

People will come and people will go,
to and from places that I do not know.
They say that it’s better, where you now are,
and that you’re close by even though you feel far.
Over our heads, in our hearts, and the breeze
that winds through our fingers and rustles the trees.
I like to think that on us you look down,
so I’ll dry up my tears and try hard not to frown,
but rather glance up to the sky and the sun,
to remember your life and the hearts you have won.
The moments you shared and the lives that you touched,
The people left here who care for you so much.
You would not want us to dwell on the bad,
but think of the light-hearted good times you had.
Of course we are human and anguish will come,
likely more often and stronger for some.
But your guard over us will help keep it at bay,
while we try to deal with it all day by day.
So as you watch over our souls from above,
please never forget Uncle Ed, YOU ARE LOVED!

Memories from Kurt

2007-11-18T22:26:00.000-08:00

Dear Eddy,

I can’t believe you are gone. I can’t believe you are gone! All this time while you were battling, I stayed in touch, but it was like I was just waiting for you to get better. Even though I knew the odds were against you…... Well, truth is, you did get better. Your spirit is free. Now we all reflect on how you touched us. I think of the movie, It’s a Wonderful Life and I cannot help but wonder what will be different from your absence. But the difference between the movie and you is that George Bailey was never born and his spark was not ignited. Although you left us early, your spark ignited long ago and your influence has spread to us in many ways. The world is a better place for that. Thank you.

I knew you since UNLV graduate school. I did not know you that well at the time, but always liked you. I remember some of the tough times you had with your thesis and working with Gene. I remember when you talked about meeting Wendy and I was so happy for you. She was and is so wonderful. Look what you guys did! You made your girls to brighten our world.

We started doing continuing education trips together and that is when we got to know each other. More than anything, I remember the conversations we would have on those trips. After a long day carting all the students across 4WD or dirt roads and teaching them about our wonderful planet, I always looked forward to having dinner and breakfast with you and sharing philosophy, our adventures of the day, or our lives back home. Remember the Jack Dempsey Room at the old Mizpah Hotel? I don’t think the Mizpah ever reopened. Do you remember the little tiny rooms in the Overland Hotel in Pioche, or the recon trip with our families and Cinco DeMayo? I recall us being at the Mizpah having an after-dinner beer with Tanya and deciding we all wanted to go out in the dark to find a hot spring you discovered in your newly purchased book about hot springs in Nevada. So off we went, and sure enough, we found the hot spring, shed our clothes and soaked up the moonlight.

Remember one of the Great Basin trips to Ely, standing out in the field looking at the stars and watching the Perseid meteor showers? Remember the one that lit up the sky? I remember the time we went hiking to Wheeler glacier with Kent. It was my first time and when we got back down to Stella Lake, you guys promptly announced to the group to either get rid of their fear of naked bodies or to start on down the trail. I think all of them except Tanya and Chris (our favorite groupies), took off down the trail. Tanya and Chris turned around, you and Kent were already naked and half way in so I figured I better join you. That was the coldest literally breath-taking water I ever immersed my entire body into. We obviously did not stay in very long, but what a wonderfully invigorating feeling. I loved it. Thank you for that experience. As I recall Chris and Tanya were caught with a camera when we emerged, so we worked on them to try the experience. Chris promptly departed, but Tanya wanted to try. We turned around and allowed her the same courtesy, but I will never forget looking over at you standing next to me with that mischievous grin on your face and camera in your hand. You, like a good polite male, also returned the favor and held the camera up over your head without turning around and snapped a butt load (no pun intended) of pictures. Unfortunately, it was her camera, so we never did see the data (or at least that the story we agreed to).

I could go on, but those are a few of my highlights that will live forever. I know you’re out there and I know I can still talk to you, but I already miss your physical presence. The world was lucky to have you. Kick some butt in the spirit world.

Your friend forever,

Kurt Goebel

From Susan Kramer

2007-11-18T11:14:00.001-08:00

I am so sorry, yes sorry to hear about Eddy's passing. Many years ago, in the mid 90's, I was living here in Vegas and read info on new classes being offered at the Community College. I decided to take a few, ended up taking the whole course! That is when I met Ed. He was my instructor in many of the classes.

I believe that our class might have been one of the first field trips - to Black Mountain. He truly knew how to help you connect the dots so to speak.

I wish I had the opportunity to know him (and his family) better. I do remember some things, however it has been a while, but what I remember most was his committment to the environment.

And I remember the sunglasses. He always had them on or near!

He was obviously loved by many and while he is no longer here physically, I have a feeling that the examples and way he lived his life will live on through all of those he touched.

Thank you Ed for the knowledge you shared and thank you Wendy and the rest of the family, for sharing his life.

Respectfully,

Susan Kramer
(A student)

Terri and RJ—Meeting Ed

2007-11-18T11:12:00.000-08:00

Four-wheeling in the-middle-of-nowhere….so we thought….we come across this white truck with this guy camped; it’s Ed with his beloved Luv truck. We are out for a day exploring areas where we fully expect to see no one…but no, there’s Ed. Who the heck would be camped in this region? It’s in the-middle-of-nowhere! And why?

We stop and say hello and Ed does the same. What a friendly guy! As we talk we discover he is a geologist and we have common acquaintances. Ed’s a grad student mapping Arch Mountain, a region north of Hoover Dam; no small task. Ed has been camping and mapping for varied lengths of time, this time was for a week or two. That length of time doesn’t allow for cold beer, and Ed loves to have a beer! So of course we enjoy a few together. As we talk we feel that we have met such an incredible person….hey, we need to get to know this guy better…as we did, for many years.

Our conversation during that first meeting with Ed was one we will remember forever as we will, of course, never forget Ed. Our wonderful friend Ed.

We love you and miss you Ed.

Love Terri and R.J.

From Jerry Carter

2007-11-18T07:03:00.001-08:00

No one who knew Ed can ever claim to be unaffected by the experience... I'll forever consider myself a better person for the memories I shared with him andI feel honored to call him my friend.

I first met Ed while we were both geology students at San Diego State in the early 80's. While we had a variety of classes together, my earliest recollection of him will surprise no one: In the first class meeting of a structural geology class, we were asked to introduce ourselves and to identify for everyone our hometowns; when Ed's turn came, his response: "My name is Ed, I'm from planet Earth".

By 1984, we'd both gotten our degrees and had each settled on UNLV for Graduate School and agreed to head out to Sin City as roommates. The next several years brought some of the best memories of my life, as we endured the cultural shock of learning to survive in Las Vegas, overcoming the challenges of grad school and figuring out what the hell to do with our lives. Through it all, Ed never lost his amazing sense of humor and his fascination for the natural world around him. He was always most energized sitting on a ridgetop admiring the scene before him, whether it was a picturesque valley, a soaring hawk, or a solitary wildflower. After a day of hiking, skiing, climbing, or geologizing... sitting around a campfire drinking beers, Ed would often peer off into the star-filled night and say "Carter, it can't get any better than this!" Of course, he hadn't yet met Wendy so naturally he'd later learn that it certainly could!

Eve and Lauralyn: you can rest assured that Ed's childhood animal adoption habits never changed... dogs, birds, lizards, insects,... it always felt like a zoo. He once decided that home-harvested honey would make great Christmas presents, so he set up beehives in our backyard. When the bee colony threatened to swarm into the house, Bill, Angie, and I were forced to barricade ourselves in our rooms while Ed calmly herded the colony back to the hive. Of course, in the end, Ed harvested several quarts of the most delicious honey imaginable,... then offered his bee removal services to unsuspecting neighbors who began to suddenly find bees colonizing in their yards!

Opening the freezer was always an adventure - white mice, raccoon tails, sidewinder rattles, all waiting for resumption of one project or another, or addition to one of his many collections. Ed's collections are legendary: rocks, fossils, plants, animals,... but most impressive is his endless collection of friends - it's difficult to imagine someone with a greater knack for making friends. I'll always be proud to be part of that collection.

Farewell my friend... see you on the other side.

Your fellow Agent of Erosion,

Jerry

Letter to Ed from Dave Lugar

2007-11-17T21:05:00.001-08:00

Dear Ed,

Thank you for contacting me with the news that John Kenson was sick. Without that call I may have never been able to talk to him before he passed. I was very sad to hear that you too had been sick. You brought back so many memories of the backpacking gang and all the adventures we went on. It’s funny how many memories come back with just a few phone conversations. Talking about the friendships we all had together really hit home with me. That’s why it’s so very hard to write this letter. I may have to say goodbye for now but it’s these memories and the new memories we have every day that keep us going. Goodbye for now Eddy, you will never be forgotten.

Your Friend and brother,

David Lugar

From Kathy Rill Stewart

2007-11-17T10:31:00.000-08:00

I am so sorry to hear about Eddy's passing. Please know that the
entire Rill family is thinking of all of you and sending our thoughts
and prayers to you and all your loved ones.

Eddy is a huge part of my beautiful childhood memories. I always
remember coming over to your house to play and Eddy had all of those
reptiles. i can still hear the sound of his laugh. I have a picture
of Eddy at my five year birthday party that is so cute.

I know he will be missed and my heart goes out to his beautiful wife
and children. From the web site pictures, I can tell that he had
built a really incredible life. His family, choice of career, love
for the earth and its inhabitants is so obvious.

I wish you healing and love for the days ahead. I am sorry for your
loss and send you heartfelt prayers for peace and happiness.

Love,

Kathy Rill
(Kate Stewart)

From Mark Silverstein

2007-11-17T10:21:00.000-08:00

When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. John Muir

I first crossed paths with Ed Eschner in the late 1980s in Las Vegas when we and a few hundred other scientists and technicians worked for Lockheed doing environmental and ecological research--a paradoxical union not at all lost on us. From my first conversation with him about his beekeeping and other passions, I knew Ed was someone with special qualities. There was a certain sense of his at once being firmly grounded, possessing a powerful spirit, and having an ease and grace about him you rarely see in people.

When I was struggling with attempting to convince the corporation to fund an environmental-agricultural learning center on a farm I once was lived on in the Hudson Valley in upstate NY, he cheered me on and offered continual encouragement. And when he was struggling with the dilemma of being offered a slot on a field crew to go sampling in Alaska following the Valdez oil spill or to yield to pressure and stay back in Vegas to work on a project report, I'd like to think my encouragement at least in some small way helped sway him to decide to head north. That report got done when he returned, but he had been to work in Alaska first!

Ed soon left to take on the challenges and risk of creating and growing a course curriculum at CCSN, while I stayed on for several more years. I saw him maybe only once or twice early on since then (my loss, of course), but I loosely kept tabs on him--as many of us former Lockheed employees do on each other both in Vegas and throughout the country--especially through his good friend of many years, Bill Cole, with whom I shared an office for a good while. It was Bill who first told me of Ed's illness and while I am sure he did not show it to Ed, it was evident it profoundly affected Bill.

One night, back during the time when I was living on that farm in upstate New York--perhaps a decade before I ever met Ed--I was at a local dive bar when a guy I had never met--a leathered biker Viet Nam vet mountain of a man named Fritz who lived in a school bus down a country road with his second wife--struck up a conversation with me over a couple of beers. Before we parted, Fritz bestowed upon me a marble, explaining that he and a group of friends carried them, because if you have a marble, you haven't lost all your marbles. But, to be a marble-carrying member, he said you have to either be gifted a marble or find one out in the world somewhere, but you cannot buy or take one. There is more to it than that on a spiritual basis, but it is difficult to describe here. He told me I could gift marbles to others, and that I would know who these individuals are by a gut feeling. The reason I mention all this now is that this happened over 25 years ago, and I still carry a marble, and over those 25 years I have only gifted marbles to 4 people who I felt possessed that certain spirit that Fritz said I would know when I met them--Ed was one of those four people.

To Ed's family and friends, please accept my condolences and know that his loss is felt at great distances and depths, but so too is his sprit.

Mark Silverstein

Reminiscence from Deb Hartman

2007-11-16T23:24:00.000-08:00

I met Ed in September of 1979 in General Chemistry lab at Fullerton College. I wasn't even registered for the class and was told to leave because the class was full and there was no space for me. I told our instructor, Gus Gustafeson, that I would be there still making an A when half the class had dropped out. He let me stay!

Ed occupied the farthest end of the lab table, a total hippie from the 60's. Long hair, long beard, totallly decked out like an eastern Indian weirdo guy. He would come over to my end of the long table because I had "the sink" next to me. He would try to make conversation, and I was like this" little cookie-baking mommy" that was not used to talking to hippies.

One day, I was preparing to do an experiment (sorta like starting a recipe).....He said, " Deb, did you get a haircut this weekend?" (I didn't even look up). I said, "Yeah" He said, "Well, so did I." I lifted my head and there was this total babe with cut hair (with a small tail), trimmed beard, corduroy pants and a flannel shirt. I totally went weak at the knees. That was the start of a friendship that would last 28 years. (I told him later, "I didn't recognize you, at first!)

I had never been exposed to the experiences that were so much a part of his life--hiking, rock climbing, star gazing, fishing, camping. My kids were totally mesmerized by him. He took my kids, Lisa, Gina, and Nick, on adventures that were better than Disneyland. He took the kids rock hunting and started my son, Nick's, first rock collection. Nick said, "Mom, I didn't know you could give a rock as a present!!" He still has his rock book and magnifying glass. Ed has a collection somewhere of pictures of this kid peeing in every possible setting in the wild. One time when Nick was being particularly obnoxious during an outing, Ed turned him upside down and dunked his head in the stream!! My kids still talk about Ed's Pie Dyes------smushed wonder bread pies with filling cooked over the campfire. (no whole grains here!!)

Speaking of giving rocks as presents, one time Ed sent me a package in the mail from San Diego with a beautiful piece of granite. The note said, "Don't take me for GRANITE". I replied by sending him a freshly baked loaf of whole wheat bread with the note, "Don't take ME for GRAIN---ED". That was the end of that discussion!

The years went by and I married my nursing school boyfriend, Craig, in April of 1985. I had given up the thought that I would ever be able to domesticize this wild guy who was actually looking for White Buffalo Woman. I was like a "poodle" in his world----but we were always fabulous friends. In 1999, my husband and I went to Las Vegas and we decided it was time to meet the spouses. Ed came and picked Craig up at our hotel for lunch. They were fast friends. Ed showed him the beauty of his world in Nevada and took him out for Mexican food. (Mainly what Craig remembers about the lunch was the cute waitress with the amazing cleavage) It was on that trip that we first met White Buffalo Woman Wendy and their first beautiful little girl. What always impressed me about Wendy was how she was able to handle the "old girlfriends". Ed was not a thrower-away of people he had cared about. She knew this guy was hers!

The next trip out to see them was after the youngest was born. Nick hadn't seen Ed in many years and brought out his girlfriend for Ed to meet. They next day, Nick and Skye eloped in Las Vegas. Must've been the Ed-effect.

We've seen Ed and family a number of times in the last 5 years as he was getting treatment in Houston where we live. I last saw him on his 48th birthday 3 weeks ago tonight. He told me that if it weren't for his 3 "girls"---that he could go without regret. My most poignant memory of that night was the cello concert that his daughter performed. I saw the love that he had for her as she played.

I feel very blessed to have know this man and his family. He was one of the most influential people in my life and I know I am not unique in this feeling. He was truly a teacher to many of us and will live on in our hearts. With love to Al, Lauralyn, and Evey for being an amazing family support---I know what all you did!!! To Wendy and his daughters, I hold the utmost respect and love for being his world and his haven.

God bless you all, Debby Ruggieri Hartman

Annie and Terry in Alaska

2007-11-16T14:33:00.000-08:00

My husband Terry and Eddy went to UNLV together. I have been trying to find this
great field photo Terry has of them. We have boxes of photos but I will
keep trying. Ed was an incredible human and will always
have a special place in my heart. I wish my entire family could be
there to help celebrate his life. At times like these the distance of
Alaska seems forever away.
Terry will be there Saturday and I will be thinking about you guys and sending
some loving thoughts of Eddy your direction on Saturday. I would run
naked in the moonlight but I might freeze to death here. I will have to
save that for when we are down south next. I also wanted to mention
that whoever put the web site together did such a fantastic job! They
really captured his spirit.
Thanks, Annie

Thoughts from Dr. Pettit College of So. NV.

2007-11-16T14:12:00.000-08:00

Hi,

I am a counselor at the College of Southern Nevada and was blessed to be here when Ed taught classes for CSN. I knew him through committees, mutual friends and through the students that took his classes.

The students adored him and told new students to take Ed Eschner’s class because he would treat you fair. He opened up many a student’s life to new information and encouraged some to follow in his career footsteps. I believe Ed always had full classes and retained most of his students throughout the semester. CSN lost a great instructor when he left. Students were still asking for him semesters after he had left CSN.

Ed was always a fair and open individual that spoke honestly and plainly. On committees, he was the intellectual, often bringing up ideas that no one else had considered. He was blunt and to the point and for those of us that admire those traits, he was the guy in the white hat.

I guess the good do die young, because this was very unfair.

My prayers and thoughts go to the family and friends of this great man. He was missed when he left and now he is truly missed.

Sincerely,

Dr. N.J. Pettit

From Mark Nunez

2007-11-15T09:41:00.003-08:00

I was saddened to hear of the passing of Eddy. I was a friend and former classmate at FUHS class of 77.

As I sit and reflect I recall during our freshman year we became very close and like so many relationships we drifted apart yet I have such fond memories.

There was a rumor that floated for years that Eddy had passed (before) and we ran into each other at what I remember to be a 10 year class reunion. We reconnected and laughed at how our lives turned out to that point- He a teacher and myself a Police officer. I remembered us to be two kids with long hair that most wouldn't have thought would have made it out of school because of our mischievous ways back then.

My thoughts are with you and your family.

Mark Nunez

Pictures from Jorge

2007-11-15T09:26:00.000-08:00

Dear Eschner family,
It is hard to capture the many wonderful moments that Eddy and I shared
together. I would like to share a few pictures with his family and friends.

Sam, Ed and Jorge 2005

Even though the loss of Eddy is still so great I feel like I am fortunate to
have met such a great friend and "sailing mate".

love,
Jorge Brinson

Ed Stuck in the Muck

Nothing like a good cup of tea...

Thoughts from Angela

2007-11-14T23:17:00.000-08:00

I have just finished reading the blog and am overwhelmed with the love that Eddy generated in his life. Even though it has been many years since our time together in grad school, he and I always kept in touch. Talking about our families and the wonderful (and challenging) times we had in school. My time living with Ed, Jerry, and Bill are some of my best memories and certainly produced some of the best belly laughs of my life.

I was lucky enough to visit with Ed and family this past spring and I am so very grateful to have had the opportunity. He will always be a part of me, as he will for everyone that was fortunate enough to have known him. My heart goes out to Wendy and the girls and I hope that they find peace as Eddy has.

I have attached a few photos - ones that are imprinted on my memory.

Some background on each:

This was taken on Ed's trip to Hilo, HI for the regional Geological Society of America Conference where he gave a presentation warning against the geologic stability of Yucca Mountain as a nuclear repository. June 1987

This was taken at a ghost mining town on the way up to the national GSA conference in Reno, 1984 (our first year at UNLV). I can't remember the name of the ghost town but its very well known and on the way to Ichthyosaur State Park in north central Nevada.

Eddy and Targa - taken on a trip to Death Valley. This particular picture is from early on so maybe 1984/85.

This one was taken on a geology field trip in grad school. Our first semester everyone had to take a Geology of Nevada class to familiarize ourselves with Nevada geology and hopefully decide on a thesis area. This trip was to Wheeler Peak - now Great Basin National Park - in early Oct. 1984 just a month or so after I met him.

I have many more pictures of him (slides) especially on the Green River rafting trips we took with our friend Stoney Douglas - who I believe still lives in Boulder City. Many show his sense of humor and free spirit. If you are interested in some of these I will have some of the best made into photos for you.

I have been having a running conversation with Eddy since RJ called me on Sunday and I will certainly be with you in spirit as you celebrate a wonderful human being - please take photos and post to your web site - I have been logging onto it every day........

Please extend my thoughts of peace to Wendy and thank her for having the thoughtfulness to let me know that Ed's spirit was finally free.

Thank You, Eddy

2007-11-14T13:24:00.000-08:00

I've heard it said that the people in your life that you can totally be yourself with can be counted on one hand. I gratefully share that Eddy and Wendy Eschner are 2 of those people in my life. I met Eddy first, about 14 years ago, and our memories/stories were made after he married Wendy: family camping, road & boat trips, birthday parties, and LONG talks about pregnancy, parenthood, marriage and divorce (mine!). Their first child was born 4 months before my son , and we've been secretly planning the wedding ever since! Then came my daughter, and the littlest Eschner, at the same time. Eddy embraced the adventure that the kids brought into his life just like any other: with wonder, laughter and love.

Thanks Eddy:

For my first rattlesnake, and up-close Golden eagle encounter, on the road trip to Ely,

For the most amazing dutch oven meals, on our annual President's Day camping trip,

For not leaving the parties when I declared "OK everyone, thanks for coming, now get the _ _ _ _ out!" Hanging out with you after everyone left was the best part of those parties,

For walking me through how to handle a swarm of bees in my backyard, and for not laughing (at least out loud) when you said "don't jump in the pool", and I replied "I'm calling you from the pool",

For not only understanding, but for admitting that you felt the same way, when I shared the most inappropriate, politically incorrect, and sometimes criminal thoughts and frustrations about pregnancy and being a parent! For all the "yeah, ha ha ha ha, me too" and the "no way, you too?'" during those talks,

For the assurance that I was not and will not become broken and crazy, during the darkest hours of my divorce, when I was absolutely convinced that I was.

Dr. Seuss wrote: "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." Eddy, you never minded, and you'll always matter. Thanks for the incredible blessings you've brought to my kids, and my life.

We love you,

Trish and the kids

Childhood Memories from Lauralyn:

2007-11-14T10:46:00.000-08:00

When Eddy was born, the entire Eschner family changed forever. As his older sister I felt that it was my job to help my mom to take care of him, which believe me, was not such an easy task! From the very beginning he was not your normal child. His magnetic connection with animals and nature was evident almost immediately. Soon after his arrival, our family cat, (who at that point was much larger than Eddy was) took to sleeping with him in his crib. When Eddy was just a toddler we learned that he had to go to the hospital for an overnight stay. The afternoon before he was admitted, Eddy went outside and instantly caught a couple of bees to bring with him so that when a nurse gave him a shot, he could give her a shot too.

He also had a big desire to be on the move all the time. If Mom was holding him and not walking, he used to kick her as if he were riding a horse to get her to keep going.

Whenever we went to the market, Eddy would plead with Mom to stop at Ray's Pet Store - and so began the seemingly endless stream of pets who came to live with us. He brought home tiny water turtles that swam in the sink in our back porch, much larger alligator-like camine who took baths in the bathtub and ate live goldfish, gigantic green iguanas that got loose in the house and looked very dramatic on our red cement floors, as well as a huge variety of rats, hamsters, quail, chickens, ducks, guinea pigs, snakes, chameleons and numerous reptiles with latin names I don't remember. For awhile we had so many unusual creatures living with us that classes from Golden Hill Elementary School would take field trips to our house instead of visiting the local zoo! Eddy was also very thoughtful, and one year worked diligently to save his allowance so that for Mother's Day he could give Mom the South American Rosy-haired Tarantula that he had been coveting. She was appropriately impressed! (And, yes, Mom is a saint!)

Eddy read books all the time - and he became an absolute font of knowledge about how to care for every living creature you could imagine. He used to read under the covers with his flashlight when he was supposed to be asleep, and in the morning would tell us these amazing facts about all kinds of creatures - from the lifespan of a lemur (18 years, the lowest of any primate) to the particular food a desert tortoise likes to eat (wildflowers, although hibiscus flowers will do in a pinch).

Eddy could communicate with animals and he was able to catch them everywhere he went. We used to go on family adventures every Sunday, and on one particular adventure we had been for a walk in Trabuco Canyon. Eddy was out hiking with our older brother, Gordy, and had caught a baby snake which he put it in the empty shoe box he had with him "just in case". The whole family was in our big green Buick stationwagon on the freeway on our way home when Eddy discovered that the lid to the shoe box had fallen off and the snake was missing! At that point Dad asked how he knew it wasn't a baby rattlesnake that hadn't yet developed rattles- and we all rode the rest of the way home with our feet not touching the floor of the car (except for poor Dad who was driving - rather distractedly)! We never did find that snake, but the green Buick smelled kind of weird for awhile.

On another occasion Eddy had been reading about burrowing owls and was incredibly interested in them. He rode his bike to one of his favorite pet stores, and on his way inside noticed something moving in the drainpipe right next to the pet store window. He got down on his knees to look - and sure enough, two big burrowing owl eyes peered back at him. Now came the dilemma of how to catch this timid creature. Everytime he put his hand inside the drainpipe, the owl would move out of reach. Being incredibly creative and resourceful, Eddy thought about it for a moment and then went into the pet store. He bought a baby mouse, tied a string around it's tail and set it free in front of the drain pipe. The mouse immediately ran inside the drainpipe and, as expected, the burrowing owl pounced on it. At that point Eddy pulled the string tied to the mouse's tail - and out came both the mouse and the burrowing owl. With one swift movement he caught his owl - and the mouse wasn't even hurt (albeit a bit frightened)! Eddy's idea of the perfect two-for-one deal!!!

When Eddy was eight or nine years old he decided he wanted a raccoon - really, really badly. Once more he started saving his money and calling every pet store in southern California asking if they had raccoons for sale. They universally said no they didn't, but Eddy left his phone number "just in case". Within weeks they started calling back with raccoons (I am apologizing to mother raccoons everywhere on Eddy's behalf!) and before we knew it we had a darling baby raccoon living with us! Eddy fed Rocky applesauce and baby food, Rocky slept with Eddy at night, and Rocky got bigger and bigger. Rocky would search Eddy's pockets for the sugar cubes that Eddy kept there for her, and grew to be a part of our family. This was a wonderful experience for all of us - until Rocky got older and hungry for things that Eddy couldn't provide. Rocky was soon joined by Beastie, who was captured in a midnight family camping adventure (clearly, Mom was not on that trip). There are tons of Rocky, Beastie and Eddy stories - but let it suffice to say that only two of us had visits to St. Jude's Emergency Room for stitches from raccoon bites before Rocky and Beastie were able to live their grown up lives somewhere else more suited for wild raccoons.

Eddy also had boundless energy! He was a Boy Scout - and his troop met one evening a week in a log cabin in Hillcrest Park. Never quite heard the whole story, but from what I gathered, the minute he was dropped off by an unsuspecting parent, Eddy and his friends ditched the meeting and spent the entire evening roaming through the park, playing hide and seek and chasing each other while watching for owls and bats. In high school he joined the cross-country team and ran everywhere- and it was then that he took his first backpacking trip.

As we got older, big sisters were needed less and less. The animals were all still very much a part of our lives, but people friends began to take center stage. Eddy and I shared an intense interest in Native Americans - and I know that in some past life (that clearly carried over into this one) he was an amazing shaman. As time passed I became far less a big sister and he remained every bit as important to my life, but this time as a friend. I learned so many things from him -lessons and loves that I carry with me to this day. Eddy lives in each of us and with each of us forever.

Post Script to Childhood Memories:
Late one summer Evey and I drove Eddy and all his earthly belongings to his new apartment at San Diego State University. Mom and Dad were on one of their extraordinary trips - and it was left to the sisters to help him move. After driving for what felt like hours, we arrived at our destination. We got out of the car to check out Ed's new digs, only to be greeted by the yells of someone jumping into the pool that was located in the courtyard of the building. This ferocious sound followed by a loud splash happened repeatedly and we finally looked up to realize that this crazy guy was jumping into the pool - not from the diving board as we had imagined, but off the two-story roof! It was later that we came to realize that that guy was Joe Valdez - Eddy's future great friend and brother-in-law. They went on to have many happy adventures together - and I know I speak for my entire family when I say thanks to Joe for always taking such good care of Eddy, for bringing wonderful Wendy into our lives - and particularly for bailing Eddy out of the Mexican jail on that biking vacation you guys took!

Memories from Cousin Terry

2007-11-14T10:03:00.000-08:00

Ed was my cousin. We were the Bakersfield Eschners – my sister (Robin), mom (Ginnie), dad (Stan) and I. Ed was of the Fullerton Eschners: Aunt Meg, Uncle Al and four cousins: Gordy, Lauralyn, Ed and Eve.

Growing up, we saw the Fullerton Eschners fairly often. This was partly because our grandparents, Grandpa Albert and Grandma Julia, were also in southern California, in Santa Monica. Aunt Rita, Uncle Bud and other Eschner extended family were also in the area. This meant that we had frequent trips south over the Grapevine for family get-togethers, for many a Christmas, Thanksgiving, anniversary, birthday, or just to visit. Occasionally our Los Angeles area kin came north to visit us in Bakersfield. There was lots of eating, talking, picture taking, gift giving, rough-housing, wrestling and goofing around. Good memories.

We six cousins were all fairly close in age and formed a strong family bond that still ties. Ed and Gordy were kind of like brothers to me. I felt this connection to Ed more strongly as the years went by. I did not see him often in his later years, but feel very deeply his untimely death.

Ed survived the challenges of the southern California scene and emerged nicely and impressively to become Professor Ed. He became a very good man and always seemed a very gentle soul, a very sweet person, loving, spiritual, with a great sense of humor.

Ed and my dad and I are geologists. There has been a bit of a geologic brotherhood there, with mutual interests, shared experiences and discussions ranging from structural terrain, field trips, faults, fossils, desert roses, garnets and fulgurite, to educational videos and much more. Ed and I both studied geology at San Diego State University.

Many geologists are drawn to badlands, deserts and other arid landscapes where vegetation is sparse and rocks are well exposed. It is fitting that Ed, who loved nature and geology, ended up living and raising a family in Boulder City, Nevada, surrounded by classic outcrops and beautiful geologic scenes.

I have fond memories of one of Ed's visits to Denver. I believe he was in town for a geologic convention. I was waiting to meet Ed at his gate at Denver International Airport. He came down the ramp with a very long pony tail, also bearded I believe, wearing a striped train-engineer cap, in blue jeans with a large switch knife in a leather case on his belt. Now this was a true desert geologist!

Speaking with Ed about his knife during that visit, he told the following story. He was walking in a remote area in the desert early in the morning. It was very still and he was preoccupied in thought while watching carefully where he was stepping. Unexpectedly he locked eye to eye with a coyote. He had known instinctively, subconsciously that something was staring at him, and his eyes moved directly to it. The coyote appeared aggressive. Ed opened his knife and it made a quiet clicking sound as it locked open. The click triggered something deep in the coyote's brain and it moved off immediately. This lasted for just a few seconds and then Ed moved on. To me, this story somehow relates the kind of spiritual connection that Ed felt to land and to the life around him.

On this same visit in Denver, Ed played foosball in our basement with my daughters Sarah and Lane. They had a wildly fun time. I've never before or since seen anyone as completely soaked as Ed was, in a full body sweat, from foosball.

A few weeks before Ed's death, Wendy, Ed, the girls and I got into their SUV and drove down to Lake Mead. Ed was speaking little, but it was clear that he wanted to get out into the land and to see the scenes he knew so well, and that he also wanted me to see it. It was quite stunning indeed, and I am glad that we had the opportunity to share that together.

I am grateful to everyone that gave Ed such loving care while he struggled with the tumor. Particularly Wendy, the girls and Uncle Al. I believe that Ed felt that Wendy, and the girls were his angels. Thank you for that.

We have silver human-eagles that Ed made. "Eschners are eagles" he said – I believe this was intended as a life philosophy, for himself but especially for his daughters. Cousin Ed, you are loved and will be missed – may your spirit soar.

Little Sweet Reminiscences

2007-11-13T23:40:00.000-08:00

I remember the purple irises Ed gave me from his garden. I planted them in mine and they have continued to be the most prolific bloomers every year. Those irises will live on and always remind me of Ed, his love for his family, the outdoors and gardening.
Barbara Graham

I actually watched him catch a lizard with a blade of grass. I half thought he and the lizard had planned this little abracadabra together.
Jean Arnett

Hello,
I was just getting to know him when he fell ill some time ago. He is deeply missed at the college.
Brian C. Wainscott, Professor
Dept. of Biological Sciences

I teach biology at the college and shared an interest in sailing with Ed.
I've been missing his company for nearly 5 years. And now the entire earth will miss him.
Sincerely,
Denise Signorelli Ph.D., Biology Professor

Memories from Steve Hall

2007-11-13T16:40:00.000-08:00

For Eddy

The Eschners and Halls became across-the-street neighbors on Grandview Drive in Fullerton, California in the 1950's. Four Eschner kids, six Halls. Thru the years, a closeness, a loving bond between the two families has formed and I feel deeply the death of Eddy Eschner.

The Eschner family house where Eddy grew up backs up to what is locally called, "The Gully": a verdant, unspoiled natural park of several acres replete with majestic oak trees, native grasses and even a creek. It was there that all the neighborhood kids played 'til the sun went down having dirt clod fights, digging for trap-door spiders and endlessly "messing around" within this unique oasis that had been left in its natural state as if suspended in time amid a suburban southern California neighborhood.

Eddy was several years my junior so our paths never crossed playing in the gully, but I'll bet you a dollar to a dough nut that some of Eddy's love of the earth and its creatures came from his carefree days in the gully exploring the grass green, oak-tree-brown and mustard yellow expanse of his "back yard."

Over the years, thru the Eschner/Hall grapevine, I'd hear of Eddy's milestones...his move to Nevada, his marriage, his children, his Masters degree, his teaching position. And whenever I heard an Eddy update I'd always think, "There's someone living a good life, doing his thing, earning a good living in his chosen field."

And when I'd see Eddy at the occasional Christmas Day visit to the Eschners, I remember well his smiling, bearded face and the ever-present twinkle in his eye.

And that twinkle was there the last time I saw Eddy in May of this year. Though somewhat hobbled by the effects of the brain tumor, his special zest for living was readily apparent as we shared a hug.

I count myself lucky to be a part of the Eschner/Hall "family" and I'm proud to have walked the same gully and the same earth as Eddy Eschner.

Steve Hall. Nov. 13, 2007

Memories from Samantha Daily

2007-11-13T16:39:00.000-08:00

My name is Samantha and I was the daughter of Eddy's neighbor Robin when he lived on Miratan St. The website said to write in with any fond memories of Eddy and there are so many that I can not just think of one. I remember growing up and always going over to Eddy to see what he was doing in the front yard. He was always planting something new or tending to something. He taught me so many things growing up from rocks and gems to the different kinds of clouds outside. As I became older, Eddy continued to teach me. When getting ready to go to college, he was right there by my side. He took me to the college, helped me with all of my classes, and prepared me for the next few years. He was probably one of the greatest mentors anyone could ever have and I just wish that everyone could have someone like him by their side when preparing the endeavor that college holds. If it wasn't for him, I am not sure if college would have been as successful as it has been. I now live in the house that Eddy and Wendy once occupied and have all of the fond memories everyday, even the time I fell in the cactus, of the things that he has taught me.

Eve's Memories of Ed

2007-11-13T11:37:00.000-08:00

Early Memories of Eddy circa 1966-76

There I was six years old, playing in my sand box outside the back door, all by myself. I piled sand up into a nice sized hill and began to fashion it into what I imagined to be a magnificent castle. Like all castles facing siege, along came my slightly older brother, Eddy, performing the perfectly executed role of marauder. With one swift kick and merciless giggles, my sand castle was gone. I cried and screamed and yelled for mom who clearly told Eddy to stop bothering me.
Satisfied that he had been turned away, I began yet again to pile up sand into a nice sized hill to transform into my second sand castle of the day. Just when it started to take on a satisfying form, swiftly and without warning the army of one snuck out of nowhere and kicked my sand castle down again!
This time, his laughter together with my screaming and crying shook the house; mom came running to see what was the matter and once again scolded Eddy. She hauled him away with strict instructions to leave me alone. But I knew that look in his eye that he shot me over his shoulder. I knew that look said that I—the little sister, and my sand castles were not really safe no matter what mom did or said. Eddy had watched too many episodes of The Three Stooges and knew far too many ways to torture me. For now, this one was working much to his delight and I didn’t have much hope that he would actually leave me alone.
As I sat in the sand box pondering the problem the saying “Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” crossed my mind. Clearly, if I believed that my sand castle would be safe a third time I was a complete idiot. As the queen of the castle protecting my turf, I knew I would need to be equally cunning as my attacker—if not more so.
That is when my eyes fell upon a loose cinder block in the yard. Eddy was not the only one who had watched The Three Stooges; my plan began to form. I looked around to see if he was watching; satisfied that he was not, I grabbed that brick and quickly put it in the sand box piling my sand all around it; quite contentedly crafting my castle around its hidden weapon.
Just like the wolf in the Three Little Piggies, (who had huffed and puffed and blown the first two houses, but was no match for the brick house) Eddy snuck out of nowhere to once again wreck havoc upon my castle and me. This time however, I put up little if any protest once I saw him coming. He descended upon me and with one huge satisfying kick he nearly broke his foot.
This time it was me who was laughing and Eddy who was crying and screaming for Mom! He was insistent that I had hurt him, but I smugly pointed out to the judge and jury that I hadn’t done anything but build a stronger castle—one that he had been forbidden not once, but twice to kick down!
***
Ed and I were typical brother and sister…while the above was one of my prouder moments of the one time in all of history that I had actually out-smarted him (and of course my favorite story), the truth is that most of my life Ed was my dear companion and teacher. I remember way, way back in the sixties when we played music on little 45 RPM records (remember those?) that Eddy and I were in the playroom listening to Crimson and Clover and dancing up on the couch like we were on American Bandstand. Ed looked over, assessed my dancing style and said, “That is pretty good, Evey, but you need to use your arms more,” and proceeded to throw his arms up in the air in time to music demonstrating how to do it. Impressed by my older brother’s ability, I carefully tried to imitate him. Now, I kid you not, every time I have found myself on a dance floor over the last forty years, including just recently, I will be contentedly dancing when I hear this sweet little voice say, “That is pretty good, Evey, but you need to use your arms more.” To the unsuspecting onlooker, it would appear that I suddenly had an energy surge or heard a louder version of the song that is playing because suddenly my arms will shoot up into the air in a much more pronounced way. That is when I am suddenly dancing with my brother.
***
And then there were the animals….Eddy was truly Mother Nature’s Son. He had every animal imaginable when we were growing up. Not because he wanted to trap them and cage them but quite simply because he loved them….and they seemed to love him too because they kept coming into his life by the droves, or flocks, or coveys… He would find animals that were hurt and nurse them back to health, he would find eggs and incubate and hatch them, he would buy them at the pet shop, he would find them in the oddest places trap them and bring them home.
He had Rocky and Beastie the raccoons—one of which Eddy saved all of his money up to buy and the other which he managed to trap with a Have-A-Heart Trap in a not to be named State Park, which dad let him take home only because it bit Eddy. He wanted to be sure to have the raccoon so he could watch for signs of rabies. Of course, I was his accomplice running around the area setting the traps and looking for signs of raccoons. He taught me how to identify their tracks and told me all about the habitats that they liked the most. Of course, there was the time when Rocky, our beloved pet coon, turned wild, escaped, broke into the house and attacked my dad’s foot causing him to get stitches and Rocky and Beastie both to be deported back into wild, but that was another story.
Ed had other animals, too: pet tarantulas, snakes, iguana, chameleons, camine (baby crocodiles), frogs, turtles, tortoise, ducks, chickens, fish, pheasants, quail, crows, owls, homing pigeons, a dog, cats, rats, mice, hampsters and roosters (MEAN roosters as I recall!). Our elementary school used to take field trips to our house because it was like going to a little zoo. The cool thing though was that Eddy knew how to take care of all these creatures. He knew how to care for them and how to feed them. As the little sister, it was often my job to assist him on food gathering missions. These were some of my favorite times with Eddy. Off we would go through the neighborhood looking for earthworms in the great big puddle that would form along the curb on the corner of Valley View and Grandview. We would pick Hibiscus for our iguana from the neighbor’s yard. They had big beautiful flowers that the iguanas loved to eat in exaggerated gulps.
Ed was equally loving and care-full when one of his beloved pets died. We had what had to be one of the most extensive pet cemeteries in all of Fullerton.

Does anyone remember the time that Eddy brought his tarantula to high school in a basket with a lid, waiting for unsuspecting girls to ask him what was in his basket? When they would ask what was inside, he would say, “Nothing.” Not believing he would carry a basket around all day with nothing in it they would grab at it, get it away from him (with only faked resistance from Ed) only to find when they opened the lid a huge hairy spider inside. Screams would follow, the basket would be dropped, the tarantula would be loose at school, and Eddy would scoop it up, return it to its basket and wait for the next unsuspecting girl who would ask him what was in it.
***
My other favorite of memories was going out stomping in wild weather. Eddy was an outdoor kind of guy from the very, very beginning. He loved a good storm so when it started raining, that was no reason to stay indoors! Off we would go to stomp and splash in puddles, or stand at the top of Grandview and hold on to our umbrellas in just the right position so that the wind would catch it just right. Eddy would instruct me on the perfect time, along with the perfect gust of wind, to let go and we would laugh joyfully as our umbrellas flew all by themselves all the way down the street. Off we would go in the wind and the rain running after them, only to haul them back up to the top of the hill to do it all again. It wasn’t exactly good for the umbrella, but it certainly was good for us!
***
Another favorite childhood memory was when all four of the Eschner kids, and undoubtedly a few of the neighbors too, would play “River.” As I recall, we would turn on a hose at the top of our property and build rivers that crisscrossed, intersected, raced and eventually merged in the bathtub sized lake we made at the bottom of the property. Hours and hours of play (and untold volumes of water) filled many a day as we floated army men, boats, leaves or whatever we could find down the rivers we had made.

Oh and the wheel barrow rides! Dad would haul Eddy and me all over the back yard. This was the best!
***
While Eddy could certainly be a prankster, and often a little sister’s worst nightmare, he was also my best friend when we were growing up. I even remember sharing dreams with him. Our bedrooms were right next to each other’s and we would go to bed, I would dream of flying with Eddy. We were usually on the field at Golden Hill School and we would run and then, suddenly we could take off and fly all over the place together! In the morning I would tell him that I had a flying dream with him and he would always assure me that he knew, that he had been there too. I am not sure at what age I finally decided that our flights had to be dreams, but prior to that age of grown-up practicality, I KNEW Eddy and I could really fly.
•••
Always, always, always, Eddy’s life was about nature, the wild, being outdoors, protecting the earth, teaching others about its wonderful and varied creatures, loving deeply and passionately—and being a bit of trickster too. He was like Wiley Coyote meets Willy Wonka (the Gene Wilder version) meets Dumbledore, meets Native American Shaman. Okay, okay, meets Mo, Curly and whatever the third stooge was named, meets Doctor Doolittle and The Little Rascals.
He was magical, he was my brother and I was blessed.

Eddy....

2007-11-13T00:19:00.000-08:00

I unfortunately did not know Eddy very well but I did enjoy the little time I had with him. I was a participant on a couple of the UNLV Continuing Education trips that he was in charge of for the weekend trips. I have been on several of these trips over the years; have had so much fun and learned so much about our earth from Eddy, Chris, Kent, etc.. Eddy was such a wonderful teacher, leader, and friend. He really enjoyed what he did and had such a love of life and this planet. I share that love of the earth with him and part of the love came from the experiences I had on these trips.

I am sorry for you and your family's lose of such a remarkably talented, energetic, fun loving young man. I knew that he has suffered so much in the last few years and he fought the battle; it was just time for him to go in peace. It will be a long time for you and yours to cope with this lose. I know he left two young girls and that their lives will be so influenced by his legacy. May he rest in peace.

My Sincerest Sympathy,

A friend,

Barbara Bergstrom

Memories of Eddy

2007-11-13T00:11:00.000-08:00

My “Eddy” stories might fill a book…our encounters have been that memorable. Eddy was my brother-in-law but he was also my friend.

In one of those funny coincidences that happen so often during life, Wendy and I met Eddy at exactly the same point in time… at my wedding to Eddy’s good friend Joe Valdez. To the Valdez boys, Joe and Jim, Eddy was more than a friend, he was another brother and I was so pleased, when a year later, Eddy married into the Kiser family. We always considered ourselves so lucky that two sisters had married two brothers; the family bond was already that much deeper. Many of the Eddy stories had taken place before Wendy and I entered into Eddy’s life but those stories have become part of our family lore.

Joe and Eddy had had a number of adventures together in their college days but I think that the times they spent camping and adventuring outdoors were the memories that formed a lasting bond between them. Somehow, two young men with completely different backgrounds came together in a shared appreciation of the wonders of Mother Nature. Joe is a hunter. Eddy was a naturalist. Together they shared a deep curiosity about the workings of the natural world and I think that each brought an understanding and perspective on nature to the other. Certainly, they did not always agree on the way that humans should interact with this natural world. It was more of a philosophical “meeting in the middle.”

Joe always liked to tell me that Eddy had once saved his life. This story took place high in the Sierras when Joe and Eddy were backpacking. It must have been springtime because there was still some snow on the ground and the rivers were running full and fast. Eddy had already crossed one particular river and Joe had started across the slick log “bridge” after him when he lost his footing and went into the water. Unfortunately, Joe was at risk of drowning as the heavy pack strapped to his back threatened to pull him underwater. Acting quickly, and at risk to himself, Eddy was able to cut the backpack straps so that Joe could gain a foothold and clamber out of the freezing water. They had survived an Outward Bound class together in Colorado but this event sealed their fates…they became brothers for life. It seems so appropriate now that Joe and Eddy spent their last visit together in September on a drive up through the Sierras to Tioga Pass. Just the guys again on another road trip into the wild.

My first camping experience with Eddy came shortly after I married Joe. Wendy and Ed were just falling in love. All together, but driving two pick up trucks, we set out for Arizona and the Grand Canyon. I remember that it must have been just after Thanksgiving or perhaps Christmas because Wendy had cooked a turkey before the trip. She had then packed cold, leftover turkey sandwiches made on Wonder White bread for the drive. Joe and I were so tickled to observe that “whole grain” Eddy took such delight in those sandwiches that Wendy had made for him!

We had a funny little incident occur on this road trip when Eddy’s truck had a temper tantrum and stopped running. Wendy and I sat in Joe’s truck (perhaps munching on a Wonder White turkey sandwich) while the guys went to work on the impaired truck engine. A few minutes later, their heads emerged from under the hood, and they started waving their arms and hopping up and down, whooping in a Native American style dance of victory and thankfulness. The truck was running again. Wendy and I just looked at each other and laughed…”goofy guys”…yep, these were the men for us!

The Grand Canyon was cold, cold, cold. There was snow on the ground and we slept in the back of the trucks. I remember waking up and seeing icicles on the roof of the truck shell that had formed from the condensation of our breath! It was in this campground that Eddy found a poem written about “The White Buffalo Woman.” A Native American story…he interpreted this to be a sign. Wendy was his White Buffalo Woman. Personally, I thought that the Wonder Bread had gone to his head…his White Buffalo Woman was camping with a butane curling iron!

Over the next few years, we camped together several times. Our daughters grew up together and Eddy always made it a point to make sure that all the girls had books about rocks and snakes and other desert creatures. Every outing was a geology or weather lesson. While other adults might be busy “being busy” about the camp, Eddy could be found sharing the wonders of a bug’s life with the children or what the various cloud formations might portend. This man who took such an interest in kids, rocks, birds, plants, bees and clouds, always amused my daughters. And, they were especially amazed at what a great beard he could grow! It was like having John Muir as one’s very own uncle.

The longer I knew Eddy, the more he reminded me of my Grandpa Carpenter; never rushed and always kind-hearted and soft-spoken. He even dressed a bit like grandpa…rumpled pants, a favorite shirt that was fraying apart or missing buttons, and a funny assortment of hats. And then, there was Eddy’s penchant for collecting things and saving all sorts of items that might come in handy one day. After grandpa passed away, our family all felt that Eddy continued to “channel” him in the mortal world! I also liked to imagine that Eddy was the kind of man my Uncle Tommy might have matured into had he not died so young in the Peace Corps. Grandma and Grandpa had had similar feelings about Eddy, and being desert rats themselves, formed a special bond with Wendy’s husband.

As time passed and Eddy’s tumor began to affect his energy and health, we all began to notice what Eddy had seen long ago. Wendy had become his White Buffalo Woman. For five years, we have all observed her amazing strength fueled by her love for Eddy to care for him and keep their family together at home through all sorts of adversity. When he could no longer drive the camper to take his family out into the wilderness she took over. She made sure that his dream to camp around the Western United States with his daughters materialized. Through seizures, medications, and profound fatigue, Wendy made sure that her family had the sort of experiences together that would make a full life for Eddy and a lifetime of memories for his girls.

What a journey it has been: Sad and funny, awful and wonderful, mundane and awesome. These are just a few of my many Eddy stories, the rest to be taken out and shared over and over again in the coming years when we see or think of something that reminds us of him. And always, I will hear Eddy’s very distinctive laugh in my memory…he loved his family and he loved a good story.

Debby Kiser Valdez

Sweet message from Wendy Reis

2007-11-12T11:17:00.000-08:00

I've been asked by people, why do I want to be a caregiver? The answer is, because if you're lucky,just once in your career you may get to meet someone like Ed. Over the year and a half that I was with him, to the world he was my client and I was his home helper. But to me, he was my brother. I once explained to Eve how I felt and she started crying. She said "you get it, you get Ed, you know the real Ed." He was a friend, occupying my heart like I've never experienced before. He got to know me as well as I knew him and when I would come in on a Monday morning, without saying a word, he would know what kind of a weekend I had. He would encourage with a hug and a smile. Every single day I learned something from him. On our walks, he would teach me names of different clouds. His knowlege of nature was unlimited.
I knew that some days were more of a struggle for him than others. Yet when we would go into a store and someone would ask him how he was doing, he'd say in a boisterous voice "I'm doing good, its a GREAT day."
I made a personal goal to help him smile every day. We had alot of laughs, we shared concerns and yes, when he needed to cry I would just tell him that I loved him and give him his space. He fought a good fight. What a blessing his friendship has been to me. I don't believe it was luck that brought me to the Eschner home. I believe the Lord knows the end from the beginning and he knew that we were meant to be friends.I will miss that infectious laugh and the twinkle in his eyes.
So, Ed, till we all meet again, go hiking in Heaven. I'm sure its even more beautiful than Yosemite.
This is a poem that Ed gave me.
Just think of stepping on Shore
And finding it Heaven
Of taking hold of a hand
And finding it Gods hand
Of breathing new air
And finding it celestial air.
Of feeling invigorated
And finding it immortality
Of passing from Storm and
Tempest
To an unbroken calm
Of waking up .....
And finding it Home

My Love To You
Wendy II

Star Man Eagle Man

2007-11-11T19:57:00.000-08:00

This story was written for Eddy when he graduated with his Master's Degree in 1989.
Star Man, Eagle Man
Dedicated to Eddy Eschner

When the smoke cleared he took a deep breath.
"Where am I? How'd I escape death?
Or did I?"

He looked down to see his old man's shell.
At first he couldn't see, he couldn't quite tell.
Then his eyes began to focus,
It must have been magic, hocus-pocus.
For where his wrinkled, tired bod once stood
An infant lay inside a cloaked hood.

He tried to laugh, instead he cried.
He crawled away to think and hide.
He realized he'd just been born;
From his life past he'd been torn.

Then his memory did start to fade
Just to these words his attention paid:

"Magic? Yes, indeed it's true;
Magic is what has made you.
A drop of this, a drop of that,
All mixed in the Wizard's hat.
Now we stir and add the most important things:
We add truth, easily seen;
We add freedom in the form of wings;
We add communication with all that is;
Strength and peace now are his;
We mix in family and lots of love;
And add more magic and plenty of
Powers plenty and powers true;
These are the things within you.
Take them now and live this life,
Hold on to peace and not to strife.
Guided always you shall be
Towards the light—your destiny.
Always question what you hear
Know in your heart that we are near.
If you're fearful of full of doubt,
Ask for us and we'll come out.
You are a man of the sky,
So in your dreams you'll often fly.
In this life though, stay close to earth,
For this is the planet of your birth.
But to keep you happy there are stars from high
That will shine and twinkle in your eye,
But only when you smile."

The young child thought a while.
I guess the message is loud and clear,
But I still don't know why I'm here.

"The answer may not be known for years,
Just keep looking deep in mirrors.
For through your eyes you can see your soul,
And it is there you'll find your goal."

So the child went on to live his years,
He played with his parents and his peers.
He had a brother and sisters, two.
And pets galore to name a few;
There were ducks and pigeons and birds of wing,
Owls and pheasants and crows that sing,
Of azure skies and mountains tall,
To all the neighbors they would call.

And all the while,
The boy would smile.

He would look off distant and afar,
And in his eyes you could see the star.
Only sky did they reflect,
Along with all of his respect.

Some where deep down the boy knew,
There once was a life in which he flew.
But most of the memories were now all gone,
So his life carried on.

His family was the very best,
Although his little sister could be a pest.
They laughed and played and called names too,
And all the while they grew and grew.
All through his days he felt the drive,
To know why he was alive.

"Earth bound I am? Earth bound I'll be!"
He set out to see all he could see.
As he grew, so did his dreams.
He climbed up rocks and followed streams.
He learned his voice, the animals hear.
He speaks with them and dispels their fear.
He rides the rivers and skis the slopes
And through all this he still hopes,

To fly.
And he wonders why
His wings were clipped this time around.
"My lesson must be to center and ground."

So off, alone to the hot dry sands,
He takes only what's in his hands:
His life.

A higher knowledge he has gained,
And many times he has refrained,
From striking out at those with power.
He's been learning every minute, every hour.

But not at school,
Although a useful tool,
Watching, listening is so much faster.
In fact, he is now quite a master.

He seeks the truth, which guides his days
And shares his knowledge in many ways.

The natives to this earthly land
Know him as their brother and
Remember him from times before.
They tell of him in their folklore.
They sit around the fire glow
And pass the stories for all to know.
They start out quiet, but get quite strong,
As the night of stories goes on long.
The elder moves in quiet spirit,
But loud enough that they can hear it.
These are the words he would tell,
Of the night the bright star fell.

"There was a time when life was still,
There were no animals to hunt or kill.
All the people feared they'd die.
They huddled near and wondered why,
The life they'd been given was being taken away.
"Did we not give thanks? Did we not pray?"
They started to think they were at fault,
To this the shaman put a halt.
He pointed out across the land.
All the people saw was sand,
But not the shaman, his eyes were clear.
"Do not worry. Do not fear.
It's on its way, It's almost here."

Next they knew there was great wind,
A twister was coming, toward them it spinned.
It twirled and danced up to their hill,
Did one last spin, then all was still.
Once it stopped, it turned to two;
A man and woman cloaked in blue.

Fearful not, although they looked quite wild.
It was clear she was to bear a child.
They both seemed holy and should be revered,
But there was nothing to offer since life had severed.
This time of hunger was the worst,
They were empty and full of thirst.

Then a sound filled the air,
The people looked to see from where.
Then they recognized the song,
And, with the couple, they sang along:

"Twinkle, twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so bright,
Like a diamond in the night.
Twinkle, twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are."

As they sang, the sky grew dim.
Stars a rose around the rim,
Of the swaying, song-filled earth.
Then the woman prepared for birth.

As she shuddered in excited pain,
The misty night began to rain.
By now the sky had grown quite dark,
The people looked up to see a spark.
The highest, brightest star around,
Was falling, no, flying toward the ground.

The people first shook with fear,
But calmed as the star grew near.
It flew on wings, big and strong.
It seemed to glide with the song.

The woman labored all the while,
With each push the star would smile.
It flew down, oh, so regal,
Swooping, graceful as an eagle.
Closer, closer it did glide.
Some of the people ran to hide,

But the woman knew she need not fear.
To her its purpose was quite clear.
It came to her for the birth,
To bring its soul down to earth.

It entered her through the head
And, inside, these words said,
"I am here, I am your son.
Star Man, Eagle Man, I'm the one,
To bring union back to those that live;
To teach them how to share and give.
They must learn to take care
Of the water, land and air.
I have come to teach them how,
For this purpose the time is now."

At that moment, born was the child;
Handsome, strong, laughing wild,
Stars in his eyes -when he smiled.
The people all gathered near,
The boy's eyes dispelled their fear.

Someone yelled, "Look over there!"
Gathering were beasts and birds of air.
Plants were growing in the rain,
Movement was seen across the plain.

To the people life returned.
For Star Man, Eagle Man respect was earned.
He taught them not to kill for fun,
That only true need was the reason—one.
He taught them not to waste the kill,
"Use everything, not just your fill."

He explained, from a star's eye view,
to all the creatures old and new,
"We must remember - one we are,
Love each other!" exclaimed the star.
"This one lesson must be known,
If new life is to be grown."

He taught them to live in harmony,
And how to set their spirit free.
He showed them how to care for earth,
And all about the planet's worth.

He stayed with them 'til he grew quite old,
Then one night the thunder rolled,
And lightning flashed across the sky.
Star Man, Eagle Man laid down to die.

That was just his human shell,
His lessons live on for all to tell.
But even still Star Man knew
That his job was not quite through.
So he looked for a new form,
Within which to be born.
Not as easy as it seems,
Star Man searched through people's dreams,
Until he found some folks just right,
To help him with his earth-bound plight.

You see
The earth is changing very fast,
Without his help it may not last.”

Around the fire this story was told,
To all the people, young and old.
In the hopes they would remember,
Along time past the dying ember.

It's not easy to hold such power,
On the earth in the present hour.
The family had to be just right;
One of love and one of light.
They would need to understand,
And sometimes offer a helping hand.
One more thing they had to know,
And that was when to let go.
For a star cannot burn bright,
When its held a bit too tight.

They had to love him without rules.
Although they sometimes felt like fools,
He somehow taught them how to do it,
And they saw each other through it.
For this lesson can be tough,
Sometimes the best seems not enough.
They had to learn how to trust,
Knowing this was a must.
To help Star Man with his goals,
He chose parents with old souls.

While all of this I tell is true,
It is only known to you.
Because his body had to grow,
His purpose here, he didn't yet know.

Then one day it all came clear,
As he looked into a mirror.
He was looking at his reflection,
Across his mind flashed introspection.
He saw the future and the past,
It all moved by very fast.
He saw his earth bound, winged flight,
Long ago, that misty night.
He remembered all he knew,
Of why he'd come the last time through.

Then he looked ahead some years,
And his eyes filled up with tears.
Next he knew, it was quite clear,
Just exactly why he was here.
Once again he must lead the way,
And use his light, night and day.
To illumine minds here on earth,
This was the reason for his birth.

So he went about his task,
For his help you needn't ask.
A common good was on his mind,
He'd hunt for problems and solutions find.
Sometimes his task would overwhelm,
He wished someone else would take the helm,
But he knew he was the one.
He wouldn't stop, 'til he was done.

He is protector to Earth Mother.
To the animals, he is brother.
To many of us, he is a friend,
And that he'll be, until the end.
He is a teacher to those he's taught.
He's filled our minds with many a thought.
He's taught us to go deeper, not just faster,
And to us all, he is a Master.

Star Man, Eagle Man—wherever you go,
There is something you must know:

We all love you very much!
The earth is better from your touch.
All our thanks goes out to you,
Shine your light, bright and true!

© Eve Eschner copyright 1989