I was thinking the other day ( About Lowell )

I was the luckiest bitch in the world when I met Lowell. Poor Lowell. He didn’t stand a chance.

On our first date, he played the song Music of the World Tomorrow by Sun Ra. For a girl whose first concert was Rick Springfield at the county fair, and who only had two cassette tapes at the time, it was pretty fucking awkward. I’d like to recreate those excruciating, beautiful minutes here with you all today.

But seriously I said to myself, this man is literally unlike any man I ever met and that was it, I had found it. Looking back, I’m not sure I’d tell people to make big lifelong decisions based on what you don’t know. But I did and I was glad for it.

It probably didn’t look like it from the outside, but in the 30-years of our marriage, Lowell gave me everything. Lowell was gentle and kind. He didn’t really yell. He was thoughtful, peaceful, curious. He didn’t really like people that much, or so he said. He was a man of words and he chose them carefully and purposefully. He was a man of music…even if that was a theremin sometimes.

He really loved his leaf blower. And pancakes. And words. He was a master with words. He knew when I was onto something cool by the tone of my voice, he would be so excited that I was excited. “Hey, Rene, you sound so interested and excited…I’m so happy for you.” He supported my yarn and mosaic addictions. He didn’t begrudge me weeks of Christmas carols, all four Scrooges, Die Hard, White Christmas and Love Actually and he was only sometimes an ass about my cooking.

He didn’t care that I had more shapeshifting, MC, Alien, Regency, Regency Aliens, MC Shapeshifter Dom Regency Alien romance books than philosophy in my bookshelves, although he tried.

I’m not kidding when I say that Lowell showed me weird and wonderful things. Like this online place called YouTube he “found” one day…about 3-4 years ago. And how YouTube was where he found his most recent obsession…videos about baby orangutans, gorillas, monkeys. There was a week of that fricken’ baby Hippo, but his new love beckoned and to his last day, he was showing us his favorite ones. He didn’t like or really understand the world today, and those videos gave him the respite from the hate and anger. But seriously every day, even before the web and iPhones he would be telling me about this book he read or a story about working in Taco Bell or a bookstore when he was a teen, whatever social justice or political thing was on his mind, why this word was better than that word, and once the iphone came out, he would often pop up right in front of the television to talk to me about something weird and wonderful, out of the blue and in the middle of his thought. But still, I know this is one of the things I will miss.

We were vastly different people. We’d have a conversation about something and three weeks later I’m wrapping up the thing we talked about… when he’d wander up and remark, “…you know that thing we were talking about a while ago…let’s get back into that conversation.” Arrrrgh.

I am yes, he was weeeelll

I am let’s go, he was let’s wait

I am fix it, he was ponder it

I am loud, and he was not.

He was dishes and I was laundry

I’m Iris Dement and he’s John Prine.

I was about the destination, and he was the journey. My journey. And for almost 30-years it was a grand and sweet and maddening and sad journey, and I would take that ride every single fucking day and thrice on Sunday.

The November before last I got to sit in an underground jazz club in…Vienna? Bratislava? with my sister and my son. And Lowell’s years of droning on about this obscure author and that rare musician gave me the knowledge to sit in that experience with my funny, good, loving, compassionate, giving, kind, my wickedly smart storyteller son, Max. Max, who will share his infectious giggle when you are lucky, and the driest, slyest, most cutting remarks when you aren’t. Lowell gave me that. Gave me our max.

A second son who fought for it, who climbed hills and walls, (see what I did there?) and who taught us everything about strength and being true to yourself and that fighting for what is right is the only option. The goofy, smart, stubborn, quiet, funny, loving, artist who rivals Lowell in the conversation pause game, who makes the most amazing art and who Is never afraid to try new things on his own. Lowell loved and was amazed by Clay in that regard. He gave me that. He gave me our Clay.

Now I’m bound by a promise to mention at this juncture that your dad would like me to nag you about some sort of school or college or apprenticeship…just keep learning!

And please, you two, don’t obsess about which words I choose for each of you… you’re both equally wonderful.

He, like all of us, had his demons. And he tried to fight those demons by himself, and sometimes with the help of Molly and MaryJane, Oxy and Rock-sy and the backup singers of vodka and tonic. But, after a wee little calm talk or two or twelve, he fought for himself, and for us and he did it. He was sober 19 years…

Maury, Nathan, Belle, Irene, Terry, Judy, Bonnie and Jeanie, Jeff and Mo, the universe couldn’t have picked a more perfect afterlife Algonquin Table/Fishing with John amalgamation for my Lowell. Maybe we could add John Prine and Warren Zevon.

He was the better…. Just Better.

Every note to me was a poem

Every poem was a love song

Every love song probably had a that fucking theremin

When the pain got to be too much, he would go outside for a smoke or two and he would always lean over and squeeze my foot when he left the room

And Honey, I can feel you squeezing now.

So, Lowell loved Bob Dylan and John Prine, and so to honor Bob and Lowell’s favorite John Prine song, “Lake Marie”, I hope you are somewhere beautiful standing by peaceful waters

Awwww, baby. We gotta go now.