Memories from Cousin Terry

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.