George told me one time that just after he arrived to live in Albuqurgue, he could walk down the street and folks would slow down in their cars and ask, “Oye, gordo, usted necesita un paseo?” He said they were a friendly bunch in Albuqurgue, but after a while he figured out “gordo” meant “fatso.” If a man's measure is known by the weight of his friends, then George faired very well. I am obvious testimony to that. I'm one of his friends. Life would be great if we all and everything about us was large and mellow. Such is not the case, but remember that the little nasty things make the large and mellow things more desirable.
It was Halloween many years ago when I first met George. Herb, Frank, and Wayne threw a masquerade party and George was the largest mousecateer I had ever encountered. He had the black skullcap with round ears and a Mickey shirt, probably a medium. George wore it as a midriff. I thought,”Well, by God, if you got it, flaunt it.” Let us all revel in our ampleness. We all stood around in circles back then. I was new to most of the folks there, but it turned into a circle of friends—friends I see often and try to take care, friends I see once in a while, friends rarely seen these days, and friends I'll never see in this old world again.
Another time, I was throwing the party, a dinner party. I had beef teriaki, wild rice, an avocado gelatin mold, and ample amounts of cold gazpacho. I'd gotten lucky on the gazpacho; it was a good blend of tomatoes, cucumbers, red onions, garlic, cayenne, vinegar, olive, and wine. George praised the gazpacho, bowl after bowl. Decades later, he would bring up the joy of eating that gazpacho—the coldness and the heat, the sweetness and the tannin tartness. A person's in danger of thinking they can cook when they hear such. It says more about George though. He never let go of what was good. He kept close to his heart the harmonies—sweetness and tart, cold and fiery, small nastiness, and large benevolence—and never let go of the beauty of this world whether it was found in a bowl of gazpacho, a set in a bracelet, a well tempered chord, a smile from a woman, a cloud in the sky.
We are blessed in this world, if we know it or not. I'm fortunate to have taken a road trip with George, and Herb, and Chaz, and Frank, and Mary to Colorado to see Bob Dylan on Dylan's 34th or 35th birthday. I know now that this is what epics are make from. We were all packed into a 72 Duster headed west. Chaz remembers well; he rode most of the trip between George and I. We spent Dylan's birthday with him and thousands of others in the rain in a football stadium. But the predominant spice of the trip was that George was not coming back with us. He was going on to make a new life in Albuqurque. I told George upon leaving Maryville that it was similar to leaving the Emerald City—a passing thought from me that George grasped and took to heart and made into a moment of analogous beauty. On the day we took him to the Denver bus station, we all ate at a Mom and Pop Mexican restaurant in downtown Denver. The green chilis were mind-blowing hot, but in the end they soothed and sustained. We left him standing in front of the station, waving. We all said, “ Goodbye, goodbye, George.” It felt just exactly right.
I hold life dearly. We all have this thing in common: we all have a life to live on this earth and eventually it gets over. We can think about the “over” part in different ways. Has George left us, or have we left George? Of course, I like the second. It's like leaving George at the station in Denver saying, “Goodbye, goodbye, George.” We didn't know if we would see the George at the station again, and when the world leaves me behind, who knows? Not me. The point is all of our lives are dear. When they are complete, they are gems. You are remembered and cherished by your loved ones and friends who are continuing on in this world. George was my friend. I'm grateful of that. I am grateful for all the folks who will remember well of him. I thank the loving ones who took care of him in this world. You helped make George's life harmonize. We have left with the world, and we need to continue making everyone's life beautiful, happy, and whole. May you stay blessed.
Michael Clay (1997-2010) - Our neighbor and our friend, Michael loved the little farmers and we learned as much from this 13 year old as he learned from us. Always willing to help, is energy and spirit kept us all feeling young and free. Michael loved little farm and did not want to be left out of anything.
Café Campesino has a special arrangement with Little Farm. Please considering purchasing your coffee from Café Campesino and a 10% commission will be given to Little Farm. You will be supporting family coffee farms and Little farm while drinking great coffee, roasted to order and shipped to your door.
