Louis, we hardly knew ye...

We assembled in his back yard yesterday afternoon, nearly 150 of us, to bid farewell to an old friend, Louis Uram. The memorial was intended to resemble a Quaker service, unadorned and spontaneous. And so, we gathered in chairs around the garden pond, built in the final weeks of his life, to his specifications, as his final memorial.

It began with no less a figure than myself, playing the opening hymn on the harmonica, then singing unaccompanied:

The Minstrel-Boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him
His father's sword he hath girded on
And his wild harp slung behind him
"Land of Song!" said the warrior-bard
"Though all the world betrays thee
One sword, at least, they rights shall guard
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell! - But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again
For he tore its chords asunder
And said "No chains shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!"

(Information and sound bite found here.)

The wife of the deceased arose to speak, followed by the testimony of others. Among them was this one:

Today I remember a man who was my hero, though I hardly knew him.

His wife may have been the belle of the ball. But over in the corner, some little guy was smoking a cigarette, never missing a thing around him.

You would never guess that Lou was one of a number of Marine Corps "noncombatant advisors" -- or so they called them -- in the early years of the Vietnam conflict. He didn't miss much there either. He told me later of how he was ready for death, because he could see it coming, like he had before. And so he stood up to it, unmoved, thus bringing solace to those who kept vigil around him.

Lou was Yoda, and I was the Jedi Knight in training. His size was a deception, for inside him beat the heart of a warrior. It showed in the counsel he gave, of one who observed the otherwise imperceptible in the human condition. And like the humble figure in the Star Wars saga, his counsel was doled out sparingly, leaving the student with more questions, and in the end, leaving him all too soon. I wasn't ready, I told him recently. There was not enough time.

But I discovered something. I heard it more than once: "Lou wanted me to tell you how much he appreciated..." Maybe he was too modest to tell me himself. Maybe he wanted me to know, however unlikely, that I too, could be a hero.

Will I ever learn how he meant that? My answers may rest with those who knew him longer than I, who knew him better than I. It is to them that my heart is poured out. It is to them that I turn with questions to be answered.

For I fear I shall not see his like again.

Following more testimonies, a tree was planted in one corner of the garden. As the dirt was filled in around it, along with handfuls of his cremated remains, I took up my guitar, and sang:

O, all the money e'er I had,
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm that ever I've done,
alas it was to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit
to mem'ry now I can't recall;
So fill to me the parting glass,
Good night and joy be with you all.

O, all the comrades e'er I had,
They're sorry for my going away.
And all the sweethearts e'er I had,
They'd wished me one more day to stay.
But since it falls unto my lot,
That I should rise and you should not,
I gently rise and softly call,
Goodnight and joy be with you all.

(Commentary of song to be found here.)

As I joined the others in line to contribute ashes, I picked up a leaf suitable for scooping it up, lest I touch that which I held to be sacred. As I poured in the remains, I said a prayer for the soul of this man, who practiced no formal religion, but would have heard these words as a child:

Shema, Y'israel, Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Echad.

(Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.)

Afterwards, one of his sons came up to me, and thanked me for saying what he was unable to say himself. We all retired to the house for a repast. I left soon thereafter to go zydeco dancing. Lou would have wanted it that way.