Nothing lasts forever. What are the ways to cull life’s treasures
from its shattering defeats? My memories are a tropical rain forest mix of
wonders, love, miracles, adventures, terrors, venom, & agonizing fear and
grief. I was thinking today that if I could select out a sweet medley of some
of each, I’d be happy to harvest closer to the middle of life’s highs and lows,
to try to find a peaceful blend. That’s easier said than done. The scripture
(Philippians 4:8) comes to mind: “
Finally, brethren,
whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are
just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things
are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think
on these things.”
David A Shadle (Jan. 25,
1951 – July 19, 1999…Overlooking the ruins of Persepolis, not far from where we
studied, Shiraz, Iran in 1971. Miss you and thank you for all the good you brought to our
world.
David was good at just about everything he tried:
love, fatherhood, camping, track, tennis, studying, music (a drummer),
basketball, business, mechanical repairs, art, communication, and that was with
very little practice or effort (by his own confession, not by my judgment). He
was thoroughly organized and neat. Everything had its place. Organization was a
practice he learned from his father and unsuccessfully tried to pass on to us.
He’d wonder how far his talent might have taken him had he honed and practiced
his skills like many others that he had admired.
What was that about? Maybe the Marianne Williamson quote applies- afraid
of how great he could have been and what expectations might have come with that
achievement.
Did he know he was battling demons even when he
was young? He was NEVER, I repeat, never, a bragger. He was modest. If anything
he minimized his achievements. There is pressure at the top, and he had come
close in sport and music to pinnacles. Here’s my favorite example. In Iran, when Shah
Reza Pahlavi visited Shiraz University, the music department needed a drummer
who could play anything by ear. They wanted an Iranian student, of course. Not
some long-haired American like Dave. Nonetheless, Dave outperformed all other
drummers. One other American, a cellist also performed in the concert. Due to
tight security, the concert was by invite only, and all of us Kent State
University exchange students were prohibited from attending. But we did hear
Dave was a hit at the concert. His picture shaking hands with the shah was
front page news in the next day’s paper. There is only one limiting factor that
I can imagine when it comes to Dave. He always seemed unafraid to me. I can’t
picture Dave afraid to give his all. If he believed in it, he committed to it. Whatever fears Dave had he didn’t share them
aloud. His confidant and personal adviser was alcohol. Primarily, rum and coke
or possibly orange juice and coke. They were his army of two; the army that
tortured and blasted away the multitude of talents and gifts that he
possessed. They also gave him release
and escape from what…. I don’t know. Addiction is like that. It just is. You
can’t challenge it. You won’t win. Addiction isn’t something you can bargain
with. Believe me, I tried. I was always a bit jealous of Dave’s easy way with
people. He had loads of friends. He cared for his plants like they were humans.
He never forgot to give his dog a treat. He was full of life and had the
biggest heart and sympathy for nature and underdogs. He would give the shirt
off his back to someone who needed it more.
He was too sensitive to kill a spider. They’d get shuttled outside. One
exception to loving all nature…. in the vac & sewing shop, inside a vacuum bag, he was personally
offended by a cockroaches. Cockroaches often got nuked in the microwave. LOL.
Most of all, to Dave, I want to say thank-you for Jake & Josh, for always
believing in me, and for teaching me my #1 lesson, that God is Love. Pray for
us, hug Jake, & help me to always see the good. How do we grow &
protect the lovely matters of life that are tossed in with the ugly and the
painful? I am making it a goal to be braver, more open to all that I am, being present to
it, and then communicating- uncovering, letting out, and laying down in
writing, embellishing- all of it: life’s buffet table. I expect this process to
be hard but beneficial. I expect to see more rainbows, butterflies, hear more
birds singing. Josh is in Boulder. But if he were here, I'd ask him play the drums. Dave said Josh was a better
drummer. On Jan. 25, Dave's birthday, I’m having a rum something in one of Pop’s (what the kids
called their dad) drinking glasses (that’s what Joe calls those plastic glasses-
Pop’s drinking glasses), and perchance I see a cockroach- I’m nuking it. Here’s
to you David A. Shadle. RIP.
(Philippians 4:8) “If
there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”
Preserving the good takes effort. Whether its Persepolis’s history of thousands
of years or Dave’s 48.
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Persepolis (Old-Persian: Pārśa[2]), also
spelled Perspolis, was the ceremonial capital of the Achaemenid
Empire (ca. 550–330 BC). Persepolis is situated 70 km northeast of the modern city of Shiraz
in the Fars Province of modern Iran. The earliest
remains of Persepolis date from around 515 BCE. UNESCO declared the
citadel of Persepolis a World Heritage Site in 1979.[3] There are ruins of the
palaces of Darius I, Xerxes, and later kings as well as the citadel that
contained the treasury looted by Alexander; the ruins lie on a huge platform
constructed of limestone from the adjacent mountain. ( on line references).
