Sherwin

I've strayed far from my blogographic intent.  With new resolve I post these words that I wrote for the funeral of a close friend who died last week:

During these last few sad days I’ve scrambled, from miles away, to remember Sherwin fully and to try and bring into focus why our friendship mattered so much to both of us.  Looking back, I’ve realized that there were years when I lost track of Sherwin   Scattered memories resist chronology.  All I can be sure of, is that at some point about 15 years ago I realized that it was very clear that on my infrequent visits from Boston, Sherwin was someone who it was important for me to see each time, to touch base with, and to stay connected to. 

We grew up, during our adolescence, in the same neighborhood two blocks apart.  We went to Gage and Poly.  We knew the same people and places and times.  The hours that Sherwin and I spent together; hanging out and listening to records, hunting with our pellet guns in the hills beyond the city limits,  walking for miles barefoot on sun warmed Cornwall Ave and Argyle Way, climbing up to the cliff over the Riverside  Swim Club and gazing back at the letter ‘C’ on the Box Springs Mountains to the east, all these memories and a thousand others, some of them purely sensate, were a bond that we mutually recognized was important. 

During high school, I watched with astonishment as Sherwin dared to carve out a persona for himself.  I can’t be sure how it felt to Sherwin, but from where I sat, it was nothing less than a transformation.  He took a hold of his life and dared to follow his heart.  At his 50^th birthday party I told the story of how he had raved about a psychedelic shirt my grandmother had sewn for me for Christmas.  She had modeled it on a shirt I had pointed out to her on ‘Laugh In’ or a Moby Grape album cover or who knows where.  It had fantastic swirling colorful fabric and long cape-like sleeves.  It was very cool; way way cooler than I was, and I laughed at the notion that anybody could think that I would actually wear it to school.   Sherwin said, “If you’re not going to wear it I will!”  I handed him the shirt, truly believing that there was no way that he would have the chutzpah to show up at Poly wearing it..  The shirt was just too fabulous.  Needless to say, the next day he showed up at school wearing the shirt. 

As the years progressed Sherwin went on a journey that to this day has me shaking my head.  He made new friends, he tried new things, he learned new skills.  He hounded movie stars and rock stars and insisted on his place in the world.  No life was too fabulous to claim. 

He was unpretentious and open hearted; funny and sometimes crazed.   I have an enduring mental image of Sherwin’s body language when he was ticked off about something that always cracks me up.  We’d talk for hours on the phone, reminiscing about the old days and encouraging and advising each other in our struggles to make our way in life and to find true love. I was honored by his friendship.

To all of you remembering him today, raise a glass to Sherwin and to his courage and enthusiasm.  He was unique.  And he never gave up.  Sherwin, I love you and I’ll miss you.