If you knew Dave, please leave a comment at the conclusion of this blog entry, and if you enjoy the entry, please share it with others who knew and loved Dave by providing them with the url: "retiredteach.blogspot.com." (Note: Don't type "www" in the url box).
Thanks,
Wes
I call this painting "Heavenly Bird." It depicts my brother-in-law, David Olson. Dave had an affinity to hummingbirds. They had little fear of him. One time at our condo in Park City, he had several of them simultaneously perched on his index finger. It was really quite amazing. Symbolism notwithstanding, the thing to remember about sunsets and death is that both are relative and subject to perspective. For instance, as soon as the sun sets from one point of view, it rises from the point of view of someone on the other side of planet earth--and no sooner than someone utters the words, "He has passed," others may proclaim, "Welcome home!"
If humor is medicine for the soul, then, this is a heavy dose of soul medicine, because it is so funny. When I first saw the expressions on all four of the faces in the photo, I was compelled immediately to insert the thought bubbles.
You never know what emotions hide behind a smile, particularly, a smile not elicited by anything funny or because one just felt like smiling, which is always the best reason to smile--I'm talking about smiles elicited at the specific urging of a photographer who exclaims, "Everybody say cheese!" at which time, the smile freezes for as long as it takes the photographer to snap the shutter.
Personally, I prefer photos taken without instructions to smile, because the smiles caught during those moments are likely to be real, and real smiles are the ones you want to preserve on a piece of photographic paper. Anyway, having given in to the tradition of urging everyone to smile for the camera, I took the picture.
Later, I looked at the photo and thought, "That's a staged picture if I ever saw one!" but then, I found myself beginning to laugh. Out of the blue, it hit me. It was as if I were reading the four minds in tandem and the thoughts (the ones hidden behind the smiles) were speaking to me like telepathic signals. As fast as I could type, I inserted the thought bubbles.
I don't know, of course, what thoughts were actually playing in their heads as the shutter snapped, probably something mundane like, "When is he going to snap the damn picture? My facial muscles are beginning to hurt?" Who knows? I doubt that even they could remember what they were thinking at that moment since a new thought flashes through our minds at the rate of a one per three seconds, which means..........................right about........................now, you're thinking of something else.
Anyway, what makes this photo special is not the painted smiles (or the shocked look on Diane's face, possibly elicited by my snapping of the photo before she was ready). No, what makes this photo amazing is that, somehow, I caught all four of them with expressions that were completely synergistic to each other and could not have been staged more realistically or timed more perfectly by an Academy-Award-winning director coaching four "A-list"actors engaged in the Academy-Award-winning performances of their lives, and I caught it in the snap of a shutter button. In director language, it was a "perfect take."
But the very best thing about the story line (the practical joke), the imagery of which has Dave purportedly pinching Diane's butt, is that it fits Dave to a tee. I can picture Dave perpetrating such a practical joke.
Personally, I am sense-of-humor challenged. I can never remember a joke, which is moot anyway since when I try to recall one, I mutilate the joke by delivering the punch line badly, but Dave, now that's a different story. He could rattle off one-liners, two-liners, and ten-liners all day long, never run out, and always have people in stitches.
In fact, Dave used to frustrate me at times, because I'd hear a joke, go out of my way to write it down (the only way I can remember a joke), practice it a few times, and then attempt to deliver the joke to Dave, only to have Dave beat me to the punch line, followed with, "Yup, I've heard that one before." Without doubt, in the telling of jokes and the making of people laugh, Dave was the master. And his trademark laugh, well, everyone who knew him will attest that it was not only immediately recognizable but very infectious as well.
Dave may not have been the best singer in the world (although he did a pretty damn good Ray Charles), but he was an undisputed expert at brightening up a room, making people feel welcome and important, and want to smile, sometimes with nothing more than his presence, sometimes with his wit and sometimes with his sense of humor, which was rarely politically correct, but that didn't matter--and sometimes, of course, with that machine-gun-like-rat-a-tat sound of his laugh, which was at least as distinctive as the laughs of Bugs Bunny, Woody Woodpecker or John Wayne.
And now, I find myself despairing (eyes watering), because who will now tell us the jokes? Who will now make us laugh? Who will now create nicknames for everyone? Who will brighten up our day with a phone call that starts out, "You sure look nice today"? Who will motivate and inspire us to "do something well if we're going to do it at all"? Who will routinely remind me to change the oil in my Harley and check my tires for proper inflation? I don't know, bro'. I don't know...
Here's to ya Bro'...
My brother-in-law, Dave Olson, passed away from lung cancer (if you smoke, quit!!) last week. In the top picture, Dave's kickin' back with a cup of brew on the deck of our Park City condo. Below that picture, Dave is pictured with my wife, Vicki, and above, he's ready to ride with his best friend, lover, soul mate, and wife of 46 years, Diane.
Dave was an amazing person: A friend to all and somebody around whom everyone was comfortable. He brightened up a room with his presence. Without him, I would have acquired no interest in motorcycles, something that has since become one of my passions (can a person have too many passions?), although I must say that riding motorcycles won't be the same without Dave. He was the unofficial leader of our "Over the Hill Motorcycle Gang." He will be missed.
Through his example, Dave taught me many things over the years, but I have yet to master two of his greatest virtues: First, patience. You've heard the saying, "If you do something, do it right." I think Dave coined it. He didn't rush his way through anything, sought no shortcuts, always took his time. To him, "a job well done" was not an option. It was a requirement.
The second of his many virtues which I've yet to master is the "art of organization." Controlled chaos is as close as I'll ever get to organization. I try though. Sometimes, when the chaos gets less controlled, I say to myself, "What would Dave do?"
And "patience"? Unfortunately, I don't see myself ever mastering that virtue. They say angels help us (mortals) out, but you'll have to be a damned good angel, Dave, to assist me in becoming a patient person--in fact, I better hurry up with this blog entry because I have things to do, people to see, places to go, music to write, guitars to play, paintings (and essays) to create, a dog to pet...and I can't drive fifty-five!
My father passed away a couple of weeks before Dave died. It hasn't been a good year in terms of loved ones lost, but I won't dwell on that here except to say that, during the dedication of my father's grave, my uncle Van (a very cool, mentally sharp, and healthy age 85), who has a great sense of humor, commented to me that he enjoyed funerals because everyone says such nice things about the departed. The unfortunate part, however, according to my uncle, was that he would miss the opportunity to hear anyone say nice things about him since he would miss being alive to attend his own funeral by three or four days.
My father passed away a couple of weeks before Dave died. It hasn't been a good year in terms of loved ones lost, but I won't dwell on that here except to say that, during the dedication of my father's grave, my uncle Van (a very cool, mentally sharp, and healthy age 85), who has a great sense of humor, commented to me that he enjoyed funerals because everyone says such nice things about the departed. The unfortunate part, however, according to my uncle, was that he would miss the opportunity to hear anyone say nice things about him since he would miss being alive to attend his own funeral by three or four days.
I laughed and said something like, "That may be one of the great down-sides to funerals." Truth be known, however, in my vast experience (Aside: We all have vast experience at a vast number of things--just thought I'd add that), having assumed the role over the past forty years of my family's unofficially-designated "funeral speaker" (and quite often the unofficially-designated "funeral singer" as well), I have always entertained the notion that God would grant permission to those departed to hang around long enough to look down, peak around the corner, peer through the window, or whatever, on the occasion of his or her funeral or in Dave's case, the occasion of his Celebration of Life. Dave's was my first Celebration of Life, by the way. It was very cool. I think I prefer them to formal funerals.
If my theory rings true, then, the opportunity for those passed away to audit their own funerals amounts to a nice "send off" prior to their having to catch their one-way "flight" to Heaven. The only thing missing, however, is the opportunity for the "guest of honor" to participate (i.e., say a final goodbye, thank those who attended, in Dave's case, crack a joke or two, or say "I love you" one last time to a spouse left behind).
I attempted through the song I composed for Dave's Celebration to correct this inequity by incorporating an unconventional hook: The song is shaped as a conversation between Dave and me. I do all of the speaking during the first half; Dave takes over during the second half. During the composition of the song, which I titled (most fittingly for Dave), "Motorcycles in Heaven," I tried to envision what a post-mortal conversation with Dave might actually be like. The result not only worked for me in that whenever I sing the song, I feel as if I am speaking to (and listening to) Dave but apparently it worked for others who attended his Celebration of Life as well since several attendees commented that they felt as if Dave were speaking to them, just the effect I sought.
If my theory rings true, then, the opportunity for those passed away to audit their own funerals amounts to a nice "send off" prior to their having to catch their one-way "flight" to Heaven. The only thing missing, however, is the opportunity for the "guest of honor" to participate (i.e., say a final goodbye, thank those who attended, in Dave's case, crack a joke or two, or say "I love you" one last time to a spouse left behind).
I attempted through the song I composed for Dave's Celebration to correct this inequity by incorporating an unconventional hook: The song is shaped as a conversation between Dave and me. I do all of the speaking during the first half; Dave takes over during the second half. During the composition of the song, which I titled (most fittingly for Dave), "Motorcycles in Heaven," I tried to envision what a post-mortal conversation with Dave might actually be like. The result not only worked for me in that whenever I sing the song, I feel as if I am speaking to (and listening to) Dave but apparently it worked for others who attended his Celebration of Life as well since several attendees commented that they felt as if Dave were speaking to them, just the effect I sought.
Since I personalized the song in every respect to fit Dave and the kinds of things that may have been on his mind as he peered down upon the Celebration prepared in his honor, unless you knew Dave, you won't understand everything (for instance, the significance of "Bugga Bugga" or the phrase "You sure look nice today"), but the song should give you a pretty good idea of who Dave was, even if you were not fortunate enough to have known him.
For reference, I have copied the lyrics to the song below. (Another aside: In some instances, it's the melody that dominates a song; in other songs, it's the lyrics that dominate). This song definitely derives its emotion from the lyrics, which are meaningful and real (at least, I think so).
Following the lyrics, you will find a slide-show video I made of "Motorcycles in Heaven." You may enjoy viewing it. (Yet another aside: Music, first and foremost, is my medium of choice--and the most expressive means at my disposal to pay personal tribute to someone for whom I had great respect, admiration, and love). So Dave, this is for you, bro'. It comes straight from the heart:
Motorcycles in Heaven
(WES:)
(WES:)
Did you catch the Starship to Heaven?
One-way ticket, first class
A cold Black Russian in a big, tall glass
Or did you miss your flight?
Waitin' for the red-eye tonight
Or maybe you're flying standby
'Cause you're just not ready to say goodbye
If you're hangin' 'round, my brother
Would you give us a hand?
Would you help us to understand?
Would you teach us to be kind?
Maybe you could give us a sign
"Bugga Bugga" would be fine
When hope has gone astray
And dreams fade away
Here's what angels say
One-way ticket, first class
A cold Black Russian in a big, tall glass
Or did you miss your flight?
Waitin' for the red-eye tonight
Or maybe you're flying standby
'Cause you're just not ready to say goodbye
If you're hangin' 'round, my brother
Would you give us a hand?
Would you help us to understand?
Would you teach us to be kind?
Maybe you could give us a sign
"Bugga Bugga" would be fine
When hope has gone astray
And dreams fade away
Here's what angels say
They say life and love don't end
And broken hearts they mend
And true love won't pretend
And we all should be friends
So if we listen with our hearts
We just might hear you bro'
And I'm pretty sure I know
Just what you might say:
(DAVE:)
And broken hearts they mend
And true love won't pretend
And we all should be friends
So if we listen with our hearts
We just might hear you bro'
And I'm pretty sure I know
Just what you might say:
(DAVE:)
Hey sports' fans! What's shakin'?
You sure look nice today
You sure look nice today
I heard an old biker say
They got motorcycles up in Heaven
And you might like to know
That angels don't have wings
And we don't wear frilly things
And they don't make us sing
But they got motorcycles up in Heaven
I'm gonna ride one every day
Feel the wind on my face
Heaven is a big ol' place
I'll tell you two more things about Heaven
There is no word for sad
And angels don't get mad
But I wish I could have stayed
To keep the plans we made
And I miss my family
And God, I miss Diane
But I know she understands
She was the best thing in my life
My friend, my love, my heart, my wife
Hey bro', before you go
Did you know
That I fought the best fight I could
And I never once gave up
So everything is good
And please don't be sad
Cuz' I squeezed out every single solitary
That angels don't have wings
And we don't wear frilly things
And they don't make us sing
But they got motorcycles up in Heaven
I'm gonna ride one every day
Feel the wind on my face
Heaven is a big ol' place
I'll tell you two more things about Heaven
There is no word for sad
And angels don't get mad
But I wish I could have stayed
To keep the plans we made
And I miss my family
And God, I miss Diane
But I know she understands
She was the best thing in my life
My friend, my love, my heart, my wife
Hey bro', before you go
Did you know
That I fought the best fight I could
And I never once gave up
So everything is good
And please don't be sad
Cuz' I squeezed out every single solitary
Ounce of life I had
And that's what angels help us do
No more, no less,
I have no regrets
Except to stay the hell away from cigarettes
If you keep me, baby*, in your heart
When daylight has grown dim
And night has settled in
You won't be alone
We won't be apart
And so, before I go
No more, no less,
I have no regrets
Except to stay the hell away from cigarettes
If you keep me, baby*, in your heart
When daylight has grown dim
And night has settled in
You won't be alone
We won't be apart
And so, before I go
I'd like to share a toast
(with my friends, my family, and my wife, Diane)
So raise your glasses high
Let 'em kiss the sky
So raise your glasses high
Let 'em kiss the sky
May you give your life your very best
And let (us) angels do the rest
Oh, May you give your life your very best
And let us angels do the rest
Here's mud in your eye, bro
Bye Bye...
Your bro', Wes
*Diane
Note: An alternative to viewing the video is to go to "youtube" and in the "search" box, type in "Motorcycles in Heaven." The video should then come up and can be viewed in a large video format.
Epilogue: Thanks for taking the time to read this blog entry about my brother-in-law, Dave Olson. If you are so inclined and have some spare time, please feel free to read other entries I've posted as well. Note: When you have reached the bottom of a page, you may navigate to a previously posted page by clicking on "older posts." Final request: If you have time, I would also appreciate any comments you may feel like making relative to this other articles I have written in this blog.
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