I remember the Senior Play, Harvey. Dave played Dr. Chumley.
On the night of the second performance, Elwood (Tom Yeaser) threw him a bad line. Instead of a line about going to a cottage camp outside of Akron and drinking beer, Tom suggested drinking a "spiked screwdriver." (Whatever that is.) Dave started to break up. From backstage we could see his chest heaving up and down. And then he raised his hand and put it in front of his face. He moved his hand down from his forehead to his neck and as he did so it revealed Dr. Chumley, perfectly back in character. Dave delivered his line. "No, Beer is better."
A tour de force of dramatic fortitude. (Sorry, Tom. David was not to be trifled with.)
David was a friend and a hero of mine. My experience indicates that people who are slilly are generally very confident. David was silly. I grieve his early death
David was my homeroom buddy throughout high school. I could always count on a few good laughs every morning which was a great way to start the day. I was honored to have been his date for senior week and the prom. I thought of him often. I am truly saddened by his death. I am however very happy to have called him a friend.
David's sister, Cindy, has sent me an e-mail saying: "David graduated from Bowling Green as an English major and with a very low military draft lottery number, so he enlisted in the Army and was assigned to an Army band for four years. You may recall that he played the tuba. He was stationed in Anchorage and grew to love Alaska so much that he decided to make it his home. After he was discharged he stayed in Anchorage and later moved to Kodiak. He taught English at the high school and college levels, and became known around the state for teaching writing workshops to educators during the summers. He was married twice but had no children. He passed away in 1995. He was an exceptionally sweet man and a wonderful brother, and I still miss him very much."
She also corrected me about what happened in Harvey. She says that the line was about a spiked sasparilla instead of a spiked screwdriver. My bad.
Jack Payne sent me the attached...........turns out Dave was not only a teacher in Alaska, but he was also a poet........and our designated "Class Poet" until others come forward. The attached poems were published in "Shaping the Landscape 1992" which is "A Journal of Writing by Alaskan Teachers". I've attached the journal cover photo and the two poems that Dave wrote that were published in the journal. Thanks for sharing with us Jack.
RIP Dave.
-Rupe
Memories of the FV Beaver
At low tide
the old fishing vessel Beaver
is almost completely exposed,
the red paint chipped and peeling
kelp clinging to the warped decks
rusted winch rotting.
Someone abandoned it
months ago
just off the Samson Dock,
and during a storm
it sank
in shallow water.
For weeks we expected
that someone would
rescue it,
resuscitate it,
bring it back to life.
Now it lies there
not quite dead
almost interred
by the high tide
barnacles encrusting its wooden sides
seaweed gradually covering the gunwales
the planks swelling and shrinking
the life ebbing away slowly,
while it groans out
its recurring salt water memories.
David Jaynes
Kodiak Winter Rains
In the middle of this strange winter,
the shortest day of the year close by,
the rising and setting sun is only rumored
through degrees of gray. Everything here
is darkened by wet, and it is only rarely
that there is no sound of rain.
The bears of summer
are not hibernating. They climb
the slopes and valleys, search for
roots, occasional soggy old berries, the discarded guts
of deer hunters have killed. The deep prints of their
Jack Payne
I remember the Senior Play, Harvey. Dave played Dr. Chumley.
On the night of the second performance, Elwood (Tom Yeaser) threw him a bad line. Instead of a line about going to a cottage camp outside of Akron and drinking beer, Tom suggested drinking a "spiked screwdriver." (Whatever that is.) Dave started to break up. From backstage we could see his chest heaving up and down. And then he raised his hand and put it in front of his face. He moved his hand down from his forehead to his neck and as he did so it revealed Dr. Chumley, perfectly back in character. Dave delivered his line. "No, Beer is better."
A tour de force of dramatic fortitude. (Sorry, Tom. David was not to be trifled with.)
David was a friend and a hero of mine. My experience indicates that people who are slilly are generally very confident. David was silly. I grieve his early death
Jack Payne
Carol Kopp (Walden)
David was my homeroom buddy throughout high school. I could always count on a few good laughs every morning which was a great way to start the day. I was honored to have been his date for senior week and the prom. I thought of him often. I am truly saddened by his death. I am however very happy to have called him a friend.
Jack Payne
David's sister, Cindy, has sent me an e-mail saying: "David graduated from Bowling Green as an English major and with a very low military draft lottery number, so he enlisted in the Army and was assigned to an Army band for four years. You may recall that he played the tuba. He was stationed in Anchorage and grew to love Alaska so much that he decided to make it his home. After he was discharged he stayed in Anchorage and later moved to Kodiak. He taught English at the high school and college levels, and became known around the state for teaching writing workshops to educators during the summers. He was married twice but had no children. He passed away in 1995. He was an exceptionally sweet man and a wonderful brother, and I still miss him very much."
She also corrected me about what happened in Harvey. She says that the line was about a spiked sasparilla instead of a spiked screwdriver. My bad.
Rupe Beckstett
Jack Payne sent me the attached...........turns out Dave was not only a teacher in Alaska, but he was also a poet........and our designated "Class Poet" until others come forward. The attached poems were published in "Shaping the Landscape 1992" which is "A Journal of Writing by Alaskan Teachers". I've attached the journal cover photo and the two poems that Dave wrote that were published in the journal. Thanks for sharing with us Jack.
RIP Dave.
-Rupe
Memories of the FV Beaver
At low tide
the old fishing vessel Beaver
is almost completely exposed,
the red paint chipped and peeling
kelp clinging to the warped decks
rusted winch rotting.
Someone abandoned it
months ago
just off the Samson Dock,
and during a storm
it sank
in shallow water.
For weeks we expected
that someone would
rescue it,
resuscitate it,
bring it back to life.
Now it lies there
not quite dead
almost interred
by the high tide
barnacles encrusting its wooden sides
seaweed gradually covering the gunwales
the planks swelling and shrinking
the life ebbing away slowly,
while it groans out
its recurring salt water memories.
David Jaynes
Kodiak Winter Rains
In the middle of this strange winter,
the shortest day of the year close by,
the rising and setting sun is only rumored
through degrees of gray. Everything here
is darkened by wet, and it is only rarely
that there is no sound of rain.
The bears of summer
are not hibernating. They climb
the slopes and valleys, search for
roots, occasional soggy old berries, the discarded guts
of deer hunters have killed. The deep prints of their
paws fill with muddy water
the ground cannot hold. They sniff the humid air
and think cold thoughts of sleep
that will not come.
40
--David Jaynes
Carol Kopp (Walden)
Wonderfully descriptive poems. This is a fitting way to remember David. Thanks Jack for finding the poems and thank you Rupe for the post.