It’s been almost three years now, and I never wrote a eulogy for my mom. Part of that is born of the simple fact that she really hasn’t died, she regularly sits at my dining room table with me drinking bad coffee and smoking endless cigarettes. And talking, talking, talking, talking. She lines every post and inspires every act of defiance and refusal I can muster.
So, in order to honor the importance of legacy and remembrance—however one chooses to express it—I wanted to link to Mike Caulfield’s post/eulogy for his father, the late Arther E. Caulfield. On top of that, I’d also like to add how deeply sorry we are for his loss here at the bava. Here’s to all the conversations you will have with him from here on out.