Sunday, January 3, 2021
Heavens Sake Once Loaned Us Dake
By B A Wellman
December 12, 2020
I first met Ian some years ago, he said "please call me "Dake"
Men's meeting in the wilds of Maine where we go for give and take
A gentle natured sort of guy, stood out but blended in
A Fellow Vet and future friend, with a reassuring grin
Dinner there was all pot luck, he'd brought some food to share
He asked "help me set the tables up with the dishes over there"
I wasn't sure I fitted in, but Dake said "you now belong"
To this rag-tag Army young and old, trading lessons and singing songs
Not only to improve our lives, but too the lives of others
Told me "we all are one in soul, all friends and chums and brothers
Dake changed my point of view that night with comfort reassurance
The weekend there would change my life, in friendships and endurance
Around those fires men would gather to speak of love and glory
Of problems needing empathy, one by one each told their story
But I was soon to find out how our Dake his yarn could spin
He had a spiel for everything, what was or might have been
Some diegetic from experience and some just plain made up
It mattered not, his eyes would sparkle, like a new born baby pup
That night we listened till dawn broke through, around the fireplace
Dake had us laughing all night long with his audience embrace
Depict, disclose he'd paint a picture, report, reveal, relate
Declaim, denote, define, describe then recapitulate
Could schmooze a wiggle-waggle rumor, spill beans and bend your ear
Telling secrets out of school, the laughs were always near
Spoke of his love named for the wind and of his happy life
Spoke of family friends and farm, the blissful and the strife
Stranger-friend, it mattered not, he was an all around companion
Captivating, fascinating, deep roots as strong as Banyan
Helped carry wood and clean the lodge was good to have around
Just stand within his range of voice, the stories would abound
Washed the tables, cleaned the kitchen and even cooked some meals
In all the years I've known that man he never lost appeal
Stopped by my house on his way to Georgia picking up a stove
Slept in his pop top, shared a breakfast, then away again he drove
The last time I saw Dake he spoke of leaving pain behind
Had racked his body to his soul, to that I was not blind
Our lives are steeped in destiny, beginning, middle, end
We knew that then, we know that now, still, hard to lose a friend
Those he loved now feel the sting, all hang our heads in tandem
Let's thank our gods because we know, our friendship wasn't random
But meant to be and always was, I'll miss his tales of glory
Saint Peter likely held him up, said "Dake just one more story"
With walking stick he shuffles trails,,through the heavenly woods of Maine
I'll miss him so, still peace to know, he's finally out of pain
