Taught college English. Mark Twain was one of his favorite writers. Lived most of his life in my home state of Rhode Island. Smoked a pipe. He loved rainy days and swamps. And moors to stalk on. Didn't much care for sunny days. Wouldn't touch a fruit or a vegetable, but was very fond of anything with cheeze of a very scary orange color in it, Cheeze Waffies being his favorite. Loved chowder and meatloaf. And potatoes.
One of the kindest and most thoughtful people I have ever encountered. He had a soul as big as the universe, and a gentle but wicked sense of humor. He played the guitar and sang, but I never heard him do it. He worried a lot, and sometimes he got depressed. But he never forgot to write. Even while I was in Canada.
He was a good family man, leaving behind a widow and two fine sons when he passed. I'm sure they are a credit to his memory.
He was a wonderful writer and philosopher. One of my favorite writers, in fact. He was my writing mentor. When I asked him once if he tought it outrageous for me to think I might be able to write a book, he said, "Of course you can write a book!"
He was my friend. I never met him, but he enriched my life and left an indelible impression upon it.