David Meredith’s birthday was the 27th of july & my father’s the 29th. over the decades we often celebratd them together (as in 2005 with this Julie Alley cake):
I’ve already blurrd the events of Dad’s hospitalization & death & funeral but sometime during all of that I calld David. I hadn’t been told of his own hospitalization & was shockd at the change in his voice. some days after I returnd to Santa Fe David calld with his condolences. he had no memory of my call to him from Elyria. that was the last time we talkd.
in the 33 years I knew David he was one of my most generous & trustworthy friends as well as a comfortable traveling companion.
what memories I have: standing in front of Whitman’s grave his serious talk with young Celia Coolidge at the Metcalfs’ Baby Picnic lunches at Monty’s Garden in Leominster laughing & crying during Wayland Flowers’ act in Provincetown the 1st meal at my Morris Rd house (pizza on the diningroom floor after he’d helpd me move in) the time Shami Chaikin askd his age & he almost chokd a concert on Bartok’s lawn in Budapest posing among Greek ruins collaborating with Billy Berger on a collage at the Warhol Museum… & all those places in which he lived. he creatd a world in 2 rooms above a garage on Cherry St in Kent when we met & put his strong imprint on every other dwelling. his final home – on Vine St in Kent – was the culmination: treasures artfully arrangd into a cozy & inviting spot. I tend to be a hotel person but always lookd forward to staying at David’s.
after returning from Dad’s burial I began working on this small book to give to David as a token of our enduring friendship. it was put forth in “a private edition of two: one for David one for Alex.” after he died I felt that perhaps our friends wd like to have copies as well. thus this “second edition” – the same except for the addition of an intro & final entry .
you’re always with me David.