The Boneyard - Where the Memories Live

Tree of Life

What a strange and wonderful time on the road this past winter with visits to many beautiful and amazing sights, all juxtaposed to the loss of some very memorable and special people. We returned home from travels 6 weeks early to be in the “safety” of our own home. At the end of May we experienced civil unrest here in Minneapolis, resulting in the destruction of our neighborhood businesses. The unrest was triggered by the trauma of another senseless murder of a black man by the hands of men sworn to protect and serve. It appears that some days there is a lot to mourn, lost adventures, friends and connections. There is too much introspection and too much uncertainty. The emotions come in waves. We hope it all balances out. 

I have only seen a small smattering of friends since November due to our winter travels. The Covid-19 has isolated us even more. It’s been a big uncertain and disturbing blur since we returned. I have had plenty of time to think, write, paint, garden, read, dream and hope. As I struggle to weave these little stories of life and loss together, I have repeatedly hesitated to publish this writing because it is so lovingly personal. To publish, seems like the final goodbye, it makes it all painstakingly real, but it had to be written. It had to get thrown out there with all the other little stories. All of our tears are real! 

Riley Burns - Boat Captain, World Traveler

Riley Burns

Riley died in January, when we were on the road trying to escape winter. We found out while staying in a dreary hotel room just outside of San Antonio. We were on our way to Big Bend National Park. 

This was never going to end well. We all knew that. Riley uprooted himself from Alaska and returned to rural Minnesota to be treated at the Mayo Clinic. He could not have had a better care team but the odds were completely stacked against him. We spent time together, met the care team, shared meals and checked in with his siblings. It was some kind of a crazy balance of hope vs prognosis. When it came time to leave for winter, Riley wanted us to go. He was so very brave. His public persona during all this strife will always amaze me. 

After he passed, I would wake up in the middle of the night trying to remember what he looked like when he was healthy. I wanted to know if he knew how his illness infected our hearts. I wondered if he knew how scared we were for him as we tried to comfort him and understand the pain. I know he is released from all that now but I mourn the lost adventures he will never have, that little bit of hope he had to return to his home in Alaska. I mourn for the friendship that is no longer there. 

The brightest star followed us on our westward travels and I like to think that it was telling us that he was OK. We carried our memories and told stories all across Texas. Riley would have loved every gorgeous bit of scenery and every rugged mile. The Big Bend National Park helped our spirits. Riley would have loved it there, big and expansive like Alaska.

R.I.P. Riley Burns, July 3, 1965 - January 13, 2020. We miss you. 

David Bradley - Imagination is Everything

David Bradley

David died on February 16, while we were on the road in Arizona. Social media is odd that way. We find out of a person’s passing and get to read all the shared stories, all while watching a beautiful sunset among the Whetstone Mountains in South Eastern Arizona.  I know David was a “city” guy but as a photographer he would have absolutely fallen in love with the changing light. 

He was the first person I met right after I retired in 2013. We met at Jazz Fest in St. Paul and ran into each other again on the following days for more Jazz Festival events. He was kind with such a beautiful and infectious bright smile. I said something about having just retired and feeling guilty for no longer having to work. He reminded me rather sternly that I deserved the benefits of retirement and that I had indeed worked and sacrificed for every penny that comes to me each month. He probably never knew how his words stuck with me. He was right and I have carried those words with me on through this Third Act of my life.

We shared a love for jazz and his photographs of musicians were amazing. I admired his frankness and honesty about his struggles with PTSD from his service in Vietnam. I think it taught people and reminded them to never forget the sacrifice of those that served our country. We never actually saw each other again but we shared a few stories occasionally about music or traveling, corresponding via email or Facebook. We checked in on each other casually from time to time. I am sorry that David did not get to enjoy more days but I am happy he is no longer struggling. He deserved more, that I know. 

 R.I.P David Bradley, June 10, 1950 - February 16, 2020

Terry Dupuy - Laissez les bons temps rouler

Terry DuPuy

We met Terry quite by accident in 2015 in St. Martinsville, Louisiana while eating lunch at a restaurant near his old sound studio. Terry and Lyle bear a resemblance and we joked about them being twins or cousins. We occasionally over the years made contact via social media chatting mostly about cooking or music. While planning our winter travels last fall, we asked Terry if he would like to visit with us when we passed through on our way to New Orleans. He was excited about it so we made a plan for early and stopped in Marksville in early December. We visited for two days, stayed at a nearby RV camp, met his son, shared dinner, walked around town, attended the tree lighting ceremony and told stories. It gave us a little chance to get to know each other. 

We are extremely grateful for his hospitality and it seemed like we all had a good time. We brought them home canned goods from our family garden, a very mid-western thing. I am a painter and had made Terry a small abstract painting of a Louisiana cypress grove, which he immediately put up on the wall. Terry told stories. We listened. Terry seemed to have a great attitude of just letting things roll. He was excited that we were there and took us around town to meet people and see this slice of Americana.  We had no idea of the turmoil or strife they were experiencing alone and together.

In mid April, we heard of the deaths of Terry and his son Eden via social media. We thought that perhaps they had been in an accident driving somewhere for the Easter holiday.  Within a day or two we found out that Terry was murdered by his son, Eden who then in-turn took his own life. The intimate details will remain unknown to us.Terry was my go to guy to call for making the Gumbo and I know that forever, red beans and rice will never be the same.

R.I.P Terry Dupuy, August 26, 1969 - April 12, 2020 

" Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pour through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."

- Eskimo Proverb