Remember Paul McCullough

From his wife:

>> I met this morning with friends to plan our remembrance gathering for Paul. It will be Saturday, January 10, 2:00 - 4:00 PM, at the Mountain Meadows clubhouse. Our local friends may want to join me here at Mountain Meadows. Let me know if you need directions (margie@mystagemanager.com or 541.488.6943).
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>> For those who can not make it and for our family and friends outside of Ashland, I hope you can take a moment to join us in spirit from where ever you are. Paul never let distance dilute his feelings for those he cared about. He will like the connectedness of so many people from so many locations thinking about him at the same time.
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>> Around the room at our gathering we will have pictures and mementos from Paul's many interests - contra dancing, lighting design, stage management, software development, family and friends. My brother-in-law Tim shared the following and our friend Fred will read it at the start of our remembrance.
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>> Death is nothing at all.
>> I have only slipped away into the next room.
>> I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.
>> Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used.
>> Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
>> Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
>> Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
>> Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effort, without the trace of a shadow on it.
>> Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is an unbroken continuity.
>> Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
>> I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.
>> All is well.
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>>
>> - Henry Scott Holland, 1847 - 1918, Canon of St Paul's Cathedral
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>> Following this, we'll invite people to share thoughts and memories of Paul. I'm going to play part of a contra-dance video with Paul calling. Paul asked that we read the last lines from Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters, a play he acted in during high school. Our friend Temple will close with this.
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>> Good friends, let's to the fields - I have a fever.
>> After a little walk, and by your pardon,
>> I think I'll sleep. There is no sweeter thing,
>> Nor fate more blessed than to sleep. Here, world,
>> I pass you like an orange to a child.
>> I can no more with you. Do what you will ...
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>> Paul Larry McCullough
>> July 31, 1950 - December 28, 2008
>> a life well-lived
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