Letter to a dead soul brother

Haven't checked in for a while, Dick. Thought of you early this morning as I ventured out for breakfast. Even at 6:30 a.m. Fat City was pretty full. How many hundreds of times have we gone out for breakfast together? I don't think we ever made Fat City unless it was in 1967 when you visited us in Multnomah Village but I'm not sure if FC existed then. If it did, we probably made it. I know we went to The Ship Tavern, which still exists and hasn't even changed much. You can't say that about many places in Portland today.

At any rate, I often wonder what witticisms you'd have to offer about the many strange and idiotic things that wind up in the news these days. You always kept me laughing at the insanity of it all.

Your mom is still alive. She may outlive me. I missed seeing her last summer but definitely will make the trip this summer, which means we'll likely swing south to White Bird and pay our respects where your ashes were scattered at the top of the grade and then at your plaque in the small country cemetery out of town. Doing that, I think we'll continue south -- we have to get over the Snake River gorge -- and swing over through Baker and back that way. Change of scenery from backtracking north.

I'm working on a novel based on my Army experiences, a lot of which we shared. You'd recognize some of the characters. No one is modeled after you in this one the way Hooker is in Kerouac's Scroll. By the way, your sons and mother were quite moved by the book. Son #1, you'll be delighted to know, still has your business in good shape. #2, alas, is still fighting his demons.

Well, just checking in, like I say. I'm still teaching a class at the university, which gets me out of the house and is something I have fun doing. I especially like helping talented students and recently I've met several who are very talented indeed. I try to be a cheering section for them in what is, after all, a tough and arbitrary and sometimes ruthless marketplace. Miss you much.