You’ve endured so much grief in a shot glass of time. A dog and a mentor in a matter of weeks sounds like the best kind of the worst country songs. And still, you write an amazing, engrossing tribute. This rendering of your mentor and friend left me a bit woozy at times—in the best way. The last couple of weeks’ meditations gave great perspective on love, loss, art, and companionship. I’ve learned, and very much enjoyed, so much. And this from a kid that lost his mother to cancer at 14. Just from what you’ve said here, Jack would be proud. Elated.
I'd say you have no idea how much that means to you except you do. Thank you, dear friend. Heading back your way tomorrow for a spell—let's talk about where to get tacos soon. xo
"The most troublesome fact about humans is that we do not know each other all that well, if we can really be said to know each other at all." Oh this line brought the sting of tears to my eyes. Your words were like a fish hook snagging that exact sentiment from my innermost being. And your tribute to Jack, beautiful.
I got the feeling by the end that if he had the ability to reply, he would have said something with a gruff tone but a smile in his eyes. I felt your love and admiration and respect for Jack shine through.
Thank you for always making your writing the best it can be for us readers. I don't need to know you to value it, appreciate it, and fold it into meaningfulness within my own life.
I'd say to some people that I wish them peace and healing during a difficult time of personal loss, but I don't think that's you, even though I maybe don't know you at all. I'll say I hope you stay half-afire and keep throwing your flames and tears into the world without too much constraint. ❤️
As much as it was important for me to write something that honored him for the living, I won't pretend I didn't see him sitting at the front of my mental classroom watching me with his arms crossed while I wrote. May he ever keep one gimlet eye on my words. <3
You’ve drawn it exactly how it was and is with Jack and his students. By the way, the first-line prompt we got in that class was “Because we love what disappears”. That was the first assignment for me too that I had to do a shit-ton of untangling before getting it sort of right. And then I did what Lora reported elsewhere doing with HER poem-prompt from Jack the year before — rewrite from that prompt in my mind, still trying to make it better, for decades onward. You’re in the perfect place to tell this story, and thank you for doing it so well.
I worked with Jack during my MFA. It took a lot of years to understand that when he praised the photographs as being taken by my husband, he had something he was trying to tell me about where my focus should land.
You’ve endured so much grief in a shot glass of time. A dog and a mentor in a matter of weeks sounds like the best kind of the worst country songs. And still, you write an amazing, engrossing tribute. This rendering of your mentor and friend left me a bit woozy at times—in the best way. The last couple of weeks’ meditations gave great perspective on love, loss, art, and companionship. I’ve learned, and very much enjoyed, so much. And this from a kid that lost his mother to cancer at 14. Just from what you’ve said here, Jack would be proud. Elated.
I'd say you have no idea how much that means to you except you do. Thank you, dear friend. Heading back your way tomorrow for a spell—let's talk about where to get tacos soon. xo
Hit me up. I also make damn good tacos!
"The most troublesome fact about humans is that we do not know each other all that well, if we can really be said to know each other at all." Oh this line brought the sting of tears to my eyes. Your words were like a fish hook snagging that exact sentiment from my innermost being. And your tribute to Jack, beautiful.
I got the feeling by the end that if he had the ability to reply, he would have said something with a gruff tone but a smile in his eyes. I felt your love and admiration and respect for Jack shine through.
Thank you for always making your writing the best it can be for us readers. I don't need to know you to value it, appreciate it, and fold it into meaningfulness within my own life.
I'd say to some people that I wish them peace and healing during a difficult time of personal loss, but I don't think that's you, even though I maybe don't know you at all. I'll say I hope you stay half-afire and keep throwing your flames and tears into the world without too much constraint. ❤️
As much as it was important for me to write something that honored him for the living, I won't pretend I didn't see him sitting at the front of my mental classroom watching me with his arms crossed while I wrote. May he ever keep one gimlet eye on my words. <3
I like the way you became someone from a mentor who was someone. You are so in touch with that.
I truly believe if we do nothing else in a lifetime, freely sharing what's been shared with us is worthy work enough. Thank you, Carol.
Thank you for capturing so much of Driscoll's impact and essence. He was important to me, too. All of those gruff men and good mentors, were and are.
They were and they are. So happy to hear from you, Holly, and to know how lucky all of us were.
You’ve drawn it exactly how it was and is with Jack and his students. By the way, the first-line prompt we got in that class was “Because we love what disappears”. That was the first assignment for me too that I had to do a shit-ton of untangling before getting it sort of right. And then I did what Lora reported elsewhere doing with HER poem-prompt from Jack the year before — rewrite from that prompt in my mind, still trying to make it better, for decades onward. You’re in the perfect place to tell this story, and thank you for doing it so well.
Oh god Fiona you're right—that was the prompt. How did you remember that. I'm floored. Thank you. And thank you for being here—I am honored.
This is so beautiful, Marya. Blew me away.
you're one of the most careful readers I've ever known. it's almost as if you knew Jack too. <3
As if here life depended on it. Well maybe it did.” Maybe it did indeed.
Gorgeous tribute, Marya!
Holly <3
I worked with Jack during my MFA. It took a lot of years to understand that when he praised the photographs as being taken by my husband, he had something he was trying to tell me about where my focus should land.
What a beautiful reminder—and would these dudes occasionally be a LITTLE less oblique?? Thank you for this comment, Jan.
Ha!