Saturday, May 28, 2011
For many, many years, I would arrive to work at the Playhouse very early each morning so I could get things done before the phones started ringing. Gerry would inevitably be out on the water in front of his boathouse paddling around in his kayak, and by the time I got the coffee started he'd be stretched out on the dock with his arms behind his head, soaking up the early morning sunshine. He would look over, open his eyes, smile and say "Good morning", and then the two of us would sit in silence, listen to the birds and take in the beauty of the river, me with my coffee and him with his eyes closed, soaking up the sun like a cat on a windowsill. When the first of my co-workers would pull into the parking lot our time together would end...he'd open his eyes and say "See you later", and then I'd go into the building to work and he'd head back to the boathouse. It was always the same routine for us, damn near every summer day, for at least a dozen years or more. Things changed a lot as he lost his eyesight; we'd still run into each other every now and then when he was trekking around the neighborhood on his scooter, and he'd still make it down to the boathouse from time to time, but my mornings on the river were never quite the same without him there.
