Jumpin' Jack Flash

Gray and overcast. Cool. Melancholy baby.

I joined a roomful of old friends, and many people I didn't know, at a downtown church this morning in remembrance of another friend, Eric, whose decomposed body was found earlier this month in the Genesee River. Foul play not suspected. It was, quite simply, the tragic end to a very sad life.

Handsome. Adorable. Star athlete. Track team. Ski team. Highly intelligent. Kind and tender soul. Ravaged by schizophrenia and decades of drug abuse.

Those present reminisced about his appreciation of flowers and constant seeking of knowledge: philosophy, science, religion and physiology. Almost all comments returned to his gentle nature and indomitable spirit. To his abundant sense of humor and the sparkle in his eyes. A family friend of his, who arranged the memorial service, shared how he presciently said to her, "Everyone has a future ahead of them; I have only my past." To ease that pain, an older man brought a chrysalis that is expected to hatch this week to remind us of how, like a butterfly, Eric has been released from this life's bondage and transitioned to another state. I take comfort in knowing he's now roaming someplace infinitely more beautiful than here.

My favorite stories were those that reminded me of my time spent with him while growing up in Pittsford village. Stories, with long overdue apologies to his father, about stealing bottles of 1962 Château Lafite Rothschild from their wine cellar which gained the neighborhood moniker "Klein's fine wines." Stories about the various caves and forts he inhabited throughout town. And story after story about his love for music--which seemed to be another shared bind between Eric and many of us.

After some discussion of how he firmly believed he was, in fact, Jumpin' Jack Flash (a song another friend posted on Facebook in remembrance last week), one pony-tailed dude whom I had never met, commented on the notable absence of music today. He then got up and played Mr. Tambourine Man on the piano. And for the first time in perhaps my entire life, I listened to the lyrics while attempting to suppress my sobs.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip
My toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wanderin’
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it

As for me, I have spent years scanning the sidewalks as I drove down East Ave. looking for him -- because that's where I would tend to see him most often. You could find him walking anywhere and everywhere in this city, his long, gray hair flying. He always looked homeless yet strangely content.

Now that he's gone, I know that I will continue to look for him because old habits don't die easily. But now my seeking will be filled with a low grade melancholy feeling. Just like today.

Hey Mr. Tamborine Man, play a song for me. In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.