I Feel My Brother

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

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

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.