Missing Randy Ten Years On

From this vantage point, few people have made the world around us better, the way that Randy did. Nobody I know was kinder and more selfless. Randy passed away ten years ago, although I’m still in denial. When I stop for a moment and consider my life experiences and keep cycling back through the graph in time and space we call history, Randy is singular. We acknowledge that with time our memory fades and facts can become distorted. But when I think about Randy, my mind consistently serves up surprising forgotten circumstance with a newfound strong inner-bliss radiating outward. I’m certain he had his demons, but you wouldn’t know it at a glance. Interacting with him, Randy would place your concerns, your goals, front and center. Then he would do his best to understand them, help you talk about them, laugh at them, (rarely) cry over them and generally make the absolute best out of this experience we call life. It’s just wrong that he isn’t here with us now. I have no words to describe the immense thankfulness I have for my family and friends. And I’m not one to get hung up on regret. But there is no way that this world would not be a far better place for hundreds or thousands of souls if Randy were still with us today. He isn’t: so we have our memories. That’s how I remember Randy.
Bearsville Machine Room (1979)
San Francisco Bay(1982)
With Tony Wilson (1979)
With Cindy Cashdollar (1978)