In Memoriam: Sweet Harold, Hark!

Last night one of my dearest friend's father died. I did not know him, but I can only surmise that he was one incredible human being. Her father's loss is loss for all of us. From what I know from the stories I heard, this man was a man of community, a man of integrity, a man of vision and a man to whom hardwork was no stranger. He was my friend's rock. He must have been all that and more because my friend is first rate and generally, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. She is amazing; she is simultaneously as fragile as a flower and as strong as tree. I have learned so much from her.

Our friendship is the kind that doesn't come along very often, but when it does, it is for life. She calls Toledo home, even though she has been all over the world. My girl is the biggest Springsteen fan I have ever met. She loves T-town and do you know why? Because of the people. She loves to cruise Point Place with her sweet dog daisy and take in the Maumee Bay breeze. I love that she gets why Toledo is a great place to be. Toledo is a great place to be because of the friends who will invite you in, make a cup of hot cocoa for you, and ask you how you are doing.

Here are the lyrics from My Father's House off the album Nebraska. The cocoa will be waiting and the porch light is on...

Last night I dreamed that I was a child
Out where the pines grow wild and tall
I was trying to make it home through the forest
Before the darkness falls

I heard the wind rustling through the trees
And ghostly voices rose from the fields
I ran with my heart pounding down that broken path
With the devil snappin' at my heels

I broke through the trees, and there in the night
My father's house stood shining hard and bright
The branches and brambles tore my clothes and scratched my arms
But I ran till I fell, shaking in his arms

I awoke and I imagined the hard things that pulled us apart
Will never again, sir, tear us from each other's hearts
I got dressed, and to that house I did ride
From out on the road, I could see its windows shining in light

I walked up the steps and stood on the porch
A woman I didn't recognize came and spoke to me through a chained door
I told her my story, and who I'd come for
She said "I'm sorry, son, but no one by that name lives here anymore"

My father's house shines hard and bright
It stands like a beacon calling me in the night
Calling and calling, so cold and alone
Shining `cross this dark highway where our sins lie unatoned

P.S. My girl was there when her father died. She was a comfortable presence for sweet Harold in his time of need.