My friend, Pete

Pete and Bob

Christmas at the Black Horse 2013 2

My friend, Pete Gleason, has left this world and is on to his next adventure. I am bereft that he has left so soon.

Pete was an extraordinary musician, guitar player, song writer. Always with his shaker tied to his foot giving beat to the small drum box, his pork pie hat at a jaunty angle, he would launch into a rouser that would have everyone whooping along. We all knew so many of his songs by heart, our voices would raise, becoming his choir of acolytes. He had a gift that moved people to laughter and tears. Everyone who knew him wanted to sit in when he played, hoping some of his magic would rub off.

He was also one of the best fishermen, really.
“While fishing from the Missouri shoreline of Bull Shoal Lake on the night of February 8, 1991, angler Pete Gleason caught one of the biggest walleye ever recorded by the IGFA – a 8.98-kilogram (19 pounds, 13 ounces) beast has held the men’s 4-kilogram (8 pound) line class world record ever since.

At about 10 PM, Gleason hooked the fish, which he originally thought was a striped bass, after it hit the live minnow he had on for bait. After about 15 minutes, Gleason and his friends were able to get a glimpse of the fish with their flashlights, and realized it was a huge walleye – not a striper.

Gleason backed off the drag and skillfully played the fish for another 20 minutes before he could finally slide the tired fish onto the bank. The fish was weighed 30 hours later and is estimated to have weighed more than 20 pounds at the time of capture.”

His talents were not just music and fishing but he was also a master carpenter, skilled and artistic. His projects shine – as I can personally attest. He gave me the most beautiful kitchen and bathroom I have ever seen.

Pete loved his children and was so proud of them. They were the apples of his eye.

Most of all, he was a loving, dear friend, whose strong hugs I will miss until we meet again.

rose colored glasses

I look at the afterlife
through rose colored glasses
’cause why not

the heaven we wish for
is the heaven we get
and there is no hell

and the love you felt-
from your mom and dad,
when you fell for your wife,
when you held your babies,
brought in that fish,
the time the guitar lick
caused the room to hush
then set it on fire-

all that is just a whisper
of what you will feel
when you inhale here
and exhale
there

I love you, Pete.

*The fishing info was from https://wawangresort.wordpress.com/2018/04/07/record-walleye-4/

Cotton Field

Feb morning sky
Cotton Field

I walk the gravel path
Along the field ready for harvest
The morning breeze
Catches the flags
In a steady percussion
I hear the pipes
As the tall black percheron horse
Comes into view
Pulling its flag draped wagon.

I think of the old king
On his funeral bier
A country man, a veteran of foreign wars
Whose long reign
Kept the warring factions in an uneasy peace
Knowing that at his death
His kingdom would soon divide itself
Into civil and uncivil war.

I watch as the princes of your house
Bring you to your final resting place
And I know
That for the rest of my life
I will never see a field
In full and glorious cotton
And not think of you.

**** In memory of my dear father in law, William J. Sawrey Sr. We love and miss you.

Household God

For my dad, John L. Gresham
He is missed every day
Happy Father’s Day – I love you

Household God

You were a household god,
Not a faraway god in heaven’s vault
But a jovial Jove
Full of life and power.
I sprang from your forehead,
Not fully Athena
But to become Wisdom
And Responsible
And Chosen.
Your ego was Olympian,
Thunderbolts would fly from your fury,
Then all Justice and Mercy.
A bacchanalian god–
Wine flowing as we danced in the kitchen.
I worshipped at your feet
When you lay mortally wounded,
Your life your Achilles heel.
I worship you still
With the laughing spirit you are
Now and forever. Amen.

The Course of Our Seasons – AuthorHouse Publishing 2011

First posted on March, 31, 2012