So long Leonard

We first met in that black and white album that came from abroad, with a picture of Marianne in the room of your house in Hydra ( although I have most of your records, it was only recently that I learned about you two in more detail, when you

exchanged those letters a month ago or so).

It was the sixties, no internet and your myth was a word of mouth, odds,

and ends of things we read in foreign magazines. But you were the different voice, the one that kept us company at night, when we were alone, or in grief, you were there to talk to. The record was overplayed and worn out and had to be replaced later, now it sits next to the others and I have a digital version too, you know, like then, when we taped our best music in reels, to have it playing on without having to rise and flip the lp…

Along with Bob Dylan you were the light out of our middle-class background, the ones that talked to and for us. None of you gave up and each led his own way disregarding the public, us, you had your path to lead but you did it with a quiet smile, to the end.  I always liked that smile, no matter it was behind a white shirt or an Armani suit. The deep complexity of your poetry came out as simple as an evening on a Greek island without electricity. I once finished a bottle of 7*Metaxa  playing songs of love and hate to oblivion.

I never understood those women, who felt like jumping under a bus when listening to your songs, your music kept me going, they did not.  I needed the contact to relate and that is something I felt we probably shared. Sometimes I read your verses to a woman, as a test, it was not always polite. But the love of women was a very large piece of the home-made pie of your life and thought, as it has been of mine. And I admire the way you did it, the sheer elegance the words almost caressed the meaning with steely accuracy, the effortlessness.

 When it was a struggle to be myself, I knew I had a friend who understood, nodded silently and smiled lightly. I mean I owe a lot to you and Bob. Now if you ask why it is two troubadours…but you will not, you will smile.  Your music came and went in fashion, as it goes, but it seems, you had a lot of silent friends, even here, who picked it up every time you reappeared. And your essence remained unchanged, you thinking deeply. I do not know how many I speak for,a lot, judging from the radio all day today, but let it be myself only, I want to thank you for being who you were, an inspiration, food for thought, precious and dear.

I love the way you prepared your exit, meditating. Ready as you were, long ago, as Kavafy said. I also share the feeling that the work of your life is only done when you are, work to the last drop and prepare.  I shall try for the same, if I am lucky, I do not think one should leave life unprepared, no, I do not think you should be struck by lightning, make it quick, you need time to prepare a face to meet the darkness, to become one with the energy of the universe again. But then again who knows.

We shall raise a glass for you tonight. And as long as we live, so shall you among us. Thank you.