Monday, September 26, 2005

Respected Friend

One of my very best friends in the whole wide world is a craftsman of the highest caliber. He is originally from west Tennessee, but I have known him over twenty years as he settled in south Knoxville (I told you he was smart). This guy builds world-class custom horse jumps all over the southeast. I hope I do not offend him by posting this, as I did not get prior permission (he is on my mind today). I am also guessing he built most of the ones I captured and hundreds more I did not.

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He and I first met at a performance art exhibit in the mid 1980’s. It was not an acting performance though; it was an event where artist construct these huge structures then ignite them. You enjoy the once only performance of an elaborate structure set ablaze. The day we met I had earlier suffered a 15,000 volt 60 milliamp electric shock to my chest that made me lose consciousness for a few seconds, so my ears were still ringing (Jed, learns the hard way once more). I was feeling the joy that comes from a near death day, as I have had a few. I have heard it said that men think about sex and death at least thrice as often as women do and therefore prove it.

I was sharing that story with him and we hit it off quite well, since we were at a freaky sort of event anyway. The years passed with us going to Greatful Dead shows and co-constructing shelters for our little tribe of travelers.

He and his wife allowed me to spend early spring through early summer at their home directly after my divorce, for which I am very thankful. Their home sets on an impressive piece of land that served as a retreat for my post family man mental healing. The longsuffering they had for me and my raw emotional being at that time will always be a treasure to my life’s memories.

He is also a very creative writer who wrote under the pseudonym Earl N., for which all of his junk mail comes addressed. He and I have many similar views on writing aspects also, except he is much better at it. We both refuse to constrain to the composition rules that college insist is the only way. We agree it does not fit the way folks who tell stories…tell stories. So college was not our path to enlightenment as much as digging and cutting away at the earth was.

He travels most of the time building creative structures for rich folks, but when he is home, we pick up quickly where we left off. I wish he had time to do the web log thing, because his talent for telling a tale is awesome.
:: posted by Tennessee Jed, 12:01 AM


Nice post. I enjoyed reading about your friendship.
Blogger red molly, at 8:30 AM  
It is all about the friends with me Molly!

Thanks for the visit...friend
Blogger Tennessee Jed, at 8:57 AM  
He is smart to become a southy!!
I love his work!! very groovy!
and he sounds like a very very good friend.
Blogger Julie, at 7:35 PM  
Funny you show up Julie, your computer is back I presume. The man I speak of rented the house you and I think your granny had a photo shoot in when he attended U.T.. That is how I come to know it (the city gets smaller).
Blogger Tennessee Jed, at 8:04 PM  

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