Newspaper Page Text
Beer Editor For The Flagpole.
FLAGPOLE
WILLIAM ORTEN CARLTON = ORT.
Another Year
Has Passed
Everybody has their own set of things
that they always know the whereabouts of.
One thing of mine that would go on such a
list, should it be made, is a picture I carry in
my wallet. Other than my own mug shots
(for auto-identificatory purposes, perhaps),
it remains the only photo therein, tucked
into its visible-but-secret
spot. I open my wallet
now and then to reveal
it, in full color, years old
but still bringing a smile
to my face when I think
of the memories associ
ated with it.
It is a photograph of
my late friend Melissa
Williams.
With each year as we
grow older, our memories
grow dimmer and things
we wish we could
remember fade from
view. I find myself forgetting catalog
numbers of records, who did them, and the
names of the backsides. And things that I
actually need to recall simply won't always
come up anymore in my beginning-to-
show-a-bit-of-wear on-shoulder microchip.
But I never forget Melissa.
For Melissa was a friend to me when I
really needed one; an ally in times of
conflict when I thought I was alone; a
champion of me and my works when
nobody else seemed to care; the nearest
thing I have ever had to a Guardian Angel.
That last analogy is a good one, for she
passed from this earth on January 21,1992,
at the age of 29 from cancer: breast cancer
gone to bone cancer gone to lung cancer.
And she never smoked, either.
Every year about this time I seem to
write a tribute column to her and her
memory, and I suppose I will as long as I can
think of apropos things to say. Many
Athenians remember her fondly and
warmly; most of those still carry around
question marks over their heads, wondering
why she was taken from us so soon.
Not long after she died, I met this .
touring couple from Portland, Ore. We hied
to the Globe and shared several beers, then
the young woman remarked. “What is it
that I feel missing from this room? Is it a
person? Has someone that ought to be here
with us right now just recently died or
something?”
I told her that she had hit the nail right
on the head. She interrupted me and
exclaimed very gently: “I thought that’s
what it was. I feel a presence. She must
have been a very strong soul in a very
fragile body.” How she felt this I’ll never
know. Of course I filled her in on a bit of
the detail of Melissa’s life, one that so many
of us had first enjoyed, then suffered
through when news of her illness got out.
What can I tell you, quickly, to let you
know how special she was? Sure, a lot of
people are good and kind, which certainly
describes her, but she was also truly sincere.
If she liked you, she let you know it. She
was special from the word “go” — that’s
how special she was. If you feel the compul
sion, I have written enough biographical
material about her in my columns for
Flagpole in the issues of
Jan. 29, 1992 (page 16);
Jan. 27, 1993 (page 8);
and Jan. 26,1994 (page
25) that you might have
the chance to get to
know her in retrospect,
or at least see where I’m
coming from when I
mention how much I
miss her. I think all of
these articles are
available on microfilm
down in the basement of
the UGA library.
Melissa was a firm
believer in adaptive re-use. She would be
delighted in the example of that which I
noted last week: driving in toward town on
Prince Avenue, I fell in behind a blue four-
door Honda sedan with the Clarke County
tag FBC 840. This had been Melissa’s car!
Her mother apparently sold it, and now
someone else is getting plenty of good out of
it. I didn’t bother to flag the person down
and tell her the story, but if I ever run into
her downtown, you can bet I will.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to
drop by Melissa’s apartment and see what
vehicle is now ensconced in the old familiar
parking spot she used to use. I have been
utterly unable to visit her place of business
to see how it has changed. Nor have I
reached the point in my grief where I can
visit her gravesite alone — that time may
never come, and I’ll be the first to admit it.
But the measure of the worth of the life of a
now-departed one is not found in how
much we are able to adapt to their depar
ture. (I’ll let you, my readers; Melissa’s
spirit; and Charles Darwin all tackle this
dilemma jointly.)
For those of you who remember, care or
fit into both camps (as anyone who knew
her would); I should mention that her
favorite charities and causes were: Record
ing For The Blind, Habitat For Humanity,
The Athens Pro-Choice Action League,
The Athens Area Homeless Shelter, and
the domestic and foreign mission work of
Central Presbyterian Church.
Well, folks— I will hie myself home
when this article is done, open a Snow
Goose Ale, and think gently of Melissa and
of how much she would have enjoyed
sharing it with me. And of how glad I have
such thoughts as these to share with you.
Melissa liked to share, and I have done it.
That is adaptive re-use in a nutshell, isn’t it?
P. S. Tne Snow Goose was excellent.
Thanks, Melissa. (30.)
©1995, William Orten Carlton
Ov er 50^ avors °f Beer
• Good Wines
• Fabulous Cocktails
HAPPY HOUR SPECIALS
r What should I do
L next, Pauly?
Check, out our daily dpeciaU board
199 Prince Ave. * 542
mon-fri llAM'-IOPM
SAT-SUN 1 1 AM-3PM / 5PM-
