My heart goes to join you all at this time. Though not easy for anyone to deal with the tremendous loss in the tapestry of our lives, Tex being a particularly bright and eclectic set of colors, I seem to be feeling more like partying it up and telling my worst jokes in Tex's honor. As the ripple of devastating grief is affecting all of us, and, occasionally in the last two weeks I have caved in, I can't help but smiling as well. I think of Tex and I only see him smiling at me.

Without getting into 20 some odd years of friendship with Tex where I have come to know him as alternatively, a fellow child and a big brother (in the latter we traded roles occasionally) I have made myself available as often as I could when he would visit NY. We would drive around to hole in the wall places where he would get the finest leathers or gun stuff, knife stuff, and camera parts. And of course, eateries.

Tex, a mountain of a man, always wore this vest with many pockets. In each pocket was a wealth of inventory. Stuffed to major bulging, he could pull out whatever item might be needed at the time. His hands were massive and some of his finger nails had been carefully evolved so as to pick the guitar better. He also carried around a small duffle bag whenever he was here. And it was heaaavvy. I'm a big man too. Not as big as Tex but no wimp in the pushme pullyou department. And I found the weight of what he carried on a given day daunting.

We met many times at the knife show here in New York. Tex introduced me to and tried to educate me as to the details and specific excellence of knife collecting. I have taken to it with limited success regarding the specifics of the craft but with a pleasure for the form, craftmanship, and uses. More for me, it was an opportunity to get together with my friend.

Last November we brought my son of 7 years to the show and Tex introduced him to this world. Zakaria took to it and to Tex as if they were pre-bonded. Tex taught Zak the proper ways to handle and respect knives. And he learned instantly.

At 8 years old now, I would trust Zak more than most adults to handle a blade. Not that I give him much opportunity as I still feel he is too young and inexperienced in events of the moment that a child may latch onto in play, or with other friends not as skilled or respectful. Only alone with me there.

Still, I am sharing this, one of many stories of my personal Tex legend

But how can I sum up the vast ocean of Life Stuff that my friend embodied. No question what he's meant to me. An anchor of creative comraderie, but more.

I have never known Tex to originate a cruel thought. Not that he didn't weave a spell of potentially intended revenge upon some scaliwag who was harming a friend. (I have never heard of him acting out on these.)

I have shared with Tex my unvarnished soul and he has never taken me for granted.

That Tex was a Warrior in not in doubt. Born in the year of the Dragon, he always kept his fingers on the pulse of constallations, ever trying to undertstand life's visisitudes in current events and upcoming movements.

He was brilliant in the agile workings of his mind. And sharp enough to pick up on a glimmer from you and understand the bigger picture.

Nobody's fool. He never got arrogant, only insightful.

And though forever chasing the river of abundance, he never really gave in to despair, but always had some life affirming comment which he would pour with gusto (and not a small amount of his personal opinion) into your heart and mind till the problems mattered less than simply being with him there.

Tex,

You always had faith in me.

I'll never forget you for that.

Sleep well, my friend.

You are finally awake.

Free from pain

And filled alive.

C-U-L8r

Bruce