Guy Wadsworth's Memorial, February 18
 

The Memorial Service for Guy finally happened on Saturday Feb 18 in Beaumont California and it felt sad, yet in a way, good to formally say goodbye and pay respects to a fine friend and generous man. It was a healing event in many ways, not the least of which was the full participation of Guy's children, 2 of whom (Karen Moore and Jim Wadsworth) attended, and indeed helped to organize things. Sadly, they had not seen or spoken to their father in many years, but this event brought them together with many of Guy's friends and helped them to close a gap of understanding what kind of man he was, how they were like him, and why so many people truly cared for him.

I met people who knew him well, and whom I knew only as on-line personna or through telephone conversations, and in all cases I felt richer for having made these new friends. Guy was by no means perfect, and he was actually quite a sensitive and vulnerable person, but he did try hard, and he was generous.

Following is a bit of reporting on events, for those who are interested, together with some photos and memoirs. After 4 days in Beaumont and Cherry Valley, after 2 exciting days at Santa Anita and cruising the hills around the 'Inland Empire' region of Southern California, I have to say that as an old 'Sartinista', I somehow felt Doc's presence here in his home town and now, feel myself inspired to evolve as a horseplayer and forge ahead with whatever goodies lie on the path infront of me.

Ted

This montage of photos and momentos was assembled by Guy's daughter Karen and her friend Yasmin.

Karen and Yasmin are in a country band and they performed a strikingly beautiful song written especially for Guy's Memorial service.

Karen Moore said a few words about her father and showed his chess set she found from the early family years.

Jim Wadsworth told some stories about his father and himself, and has developed a similar love of computers and fixing cars.

Marie Bechtel welcomed people to what felt like an informal gathering of friends who wanted only to share memories of another old, but now absent friend. The first thing we heard was a recording of Guy's phone message, which some of you may have heard: "Hello, I'm not here right now - tell me everything. This is Guy." So we told him everything.

I said a few words about how we, despite failing to actually meet each other in person, through our work on the software became friends and found mutual (and mutuel) respect for one another. I observed that Guy somehow seemed to have a knack for getting people connected to each other, who might otherwise never meet. Peter Tolan was involved in helping with this whole event, but it took so long to get the details organized, unfortunately he had to be elsewhere, and so gave me this message to read:


(from Peter Tolan):

I don't know how Guy and I came to be friends. I have a vague memory of Doc berating him at a seminar once for some technical foul-up, but I don't believe we ever spoke in person. You see, our friendship took place entirely over the phone. A few years ago I had a home in La Quinta and then in Palm Springs, and Guy and I would talk about me getting off the freeway and stopping in Cherry Valley, but most of the time I had my family with me, and I wasn't sure Guy had the room to accommodate the many Tolans in his modest living quarters. And I was probably worried about the cat being overwhelmed by so many warm bodies - so the visit never came to pass.

You'd think a phone friendship would be uneventful, but this was not the case. I remember one time when Guy and I were involved in a long conversation. At one point he excused himself - then I heard a short series of gurgles and groans - then nothing. I called his name into my phone as loudly as I could for several minutes, but there was no answer. My mind was racing - I knew Guy was not in the best of health - ever - and I started assuming the worst. I hung up and tried to call back - busy signal. I waited a few more minutes and tried calling again - still busy. Now I was in a panic. My writer's mind began spinning, and I saw the whole scene in my head. Guy had had a spell or a stroke - he was passed out on the floor - or God forbid, on the cat. I called the Riverside County Sheriff's Department and explained the situation. They said they'd send someone out to check on Guy.

And in fact - I found out a few days later - Guy had suffered some spell and fainted dead away. It became our joke from that point on. Whenever I'd call and he'd answer, I'd start the conversation with "Oh, you're conscious. What a nice change." Then we'd laugh and begin the conversation. And so it went for years.

When I heard Guy was in the hospital some weeks ago, I was quick to get the number and call. He was in the ICU and not getting calls - I would have to leave a message and hope they'd get it to him. My last message to Guy was simple and in keeping with our relationship. The message was, "Do I need to call the sheriffs?"

Alas, even if I had called them, there was nothing they could have done for my friend. I only hope he got the message. That way, when I think of Guy in the years to come, I'll remember him as he was and as we were together - laughing, enjoying each other, and looking forward to meeting in person someday.

Marty Dahl surprised everybody with a performance of music he composed to one of Guy's poems, which he never got around to completing for Guy to hear, but in case he was listening...

Romantica (by Guy Wadsworth)

You were that of which dreams are made.
A haunting melody never played.
You live still in my dreams
And I am happy, or so it seems.

You gave so much and yet.
I am filled with deep regret.
For you have drifted into the past.
There is nothing left save dreams that last.

Sometimes I see you just over there.
With silver light around your hair.
I see you there and I want to say.
Have you come back? Are you here to stay?

Smiling softly you disappear
While I talk on and hope you will hear.
I tell you of the flames of youth
When love alone was the only truth.

Though the flames have turned to ember
I dream of you and so remember
Those days of sweet intensity
That sweet gift you gave to me.

Listening to stories and music, about Guy's bad jokes, his Republican politics, his cats (all 3 cats found new homes, one down the street with Guy's dear friend Jane Martin).

Guy's good friend Mike West told about his times with Guy, and read a message from another old buddy, Larry Vogele.