If you have a best friend who is faithful through long years of neglect, and who has also always had a sharp and ironic eye for your faults, you are very lucky!
One day not very long ago Sheila and I were driving back to Austin from visiting our grandchildren in Prescott AZ and on a whim we did a little detour through Scottsdale to knock unexpectedly (and for the first time ever) on Barbara and Dave’s front door. They opened at once, and at once threw their embrace around us, showed us around their immaculate (allergen-free) digs, and took us out for the very finest lunch. My God, what warmth! What undeserved warmth!
We reminisced at length on sophomore-room-mate-year at Amherst (when Dave, subject to ROTC rules, kept himself sufficiently demerit-free as to retain his RAF-style mustache! He was that meticulous in life-habits!); on subsequent years in the college’s most serious (and remote and independent) fraternity; on his finding the fiercely brilliant, graceful and stunning Barbara; and on our parallel tendencies toward social reserve. Immediately after graduation I was his (and Barbara’s) Best Man. Three years later in London he was mine and Sheila’s, Dave serving at the time in SAC “Weather Reconnaissance” high over the Baltic and Barbara teaching in the English school system.
I had been to more recent Amherst reunions than Dave, I supposed. I asked him if, like me, he had found since college that classmates he might once have found unpleasant or untrustworthy had actually matured into niceness. He looked at me with a lightly sardonic smile, “Are you sure, Bob, it isn’t the other way around?”
We all four laughed. It was that sort of friendship.
Before Sheila and I left, Dave disappeared into his study on an urgent hunt for something of passionate importance to him, then came out with two silver-framed photos he had taken at our wedding long ago and kept ever since: one of Sheila, her veil pushed back, holding her bouquet, her feet as a ballerina’s just-alighted, her expression a radiant laugh; the other the two of us, hands joined, eyes joined too, about to enter the limousine. The best (and dearest) pictures we have. That sort of friendship.
(N.B. Dave and my politics were probably always different; they became more so over the years. That was never a problem. Again, it was that sort of friendship.)
I am sorry for your loss. Uncle Davide was and extraordinary , genuine and kind man. Who always was there for his family. His love and kindness is endless because he remains within us all. Love Jamie Rainone
I love writing poetry and it has been a lifelong wish to be published as a writer. Dad was a big supporter of my writing and a wonderful collaborator and editor too. The following is a poem I shared with him back in 2011. He helped me finish and edit it. Then, in 2012 I was honored to have it published in an online poetry journal called "Poetry Quarterly."
A Cloud Speckled Sky By Kimberly L. McClune Edited with David J. McClune
Busy ants gather Playful squirrels scurry Quiet bunnies munch Under a cloud speckled sky.
Leaf draped oaks Flower laden gardens Fresh mown grass Under a cloud speckled sky.
Rippling rushing stream Rhythmic shooting sprinkler Layered cascading fountain Under a cloud speckled sky.
Sun bathers tanning Children’s feet splashing Sandlot ball playing Under a cloud speckled sky.
The following is a poem that makes me think of Barbara and David McClune. It now brings tears to my eyes to know that their time together on this earth has ended. But I know their love and legacy will love on eternally.
Only of thee and me the nightwind sings: Only of us the lovers speak at sea; The earth is full of breathless whisperings Only of thee and me.
Only of thee and me the forests chant; Only of us the stir in bush and tree; The rain and sun inform the blossoming plant Only of thee and me.
Only of thee and me till all shall fade; Only of us the world’s first thought can be; For we are love, and heaven itself is made Only of thee and me.
The following is a poem David wrote after an interaction with his Father, Lloyd Alonzo McClune. It is so special and shows the great love David had for his father, as well as the gift he had for writing from the heart.
GLUE
The other day I called my Dad. We share an interest in cabinet making, and I wanted his advice about glue.
Glue is interesting stuff. Sure, it's a four letter word, but ... Without it our world would be a different place. It holds things together. You can't see it, but it makes wall paper stick. It holds down your kitchen counter top, and Sticks the tiles to the floor. It even holds your shoes together. It is used in myriad ways you never suspect. That's because you can't see it.
Ever thought about your skin? Bet you never considered that skin is a lot like glue? By golly, without skin you'd be nothing but a pile of bones! Skin is what holds you together. Just like glue. Has four letters too! Of course, you can see skin.
Hardly anyone associates humor with nuclear physicists, right? They study the stuff that holds atoms and such together. You know, sub-atomic glue. Well, they named some of that stuff gluon. Yes, gluon has more than four letters, but the sound is right. And, even physicists can't really see it.
Love is just like glue. It is powerful stuff and, like glue, it works without being seen. What you see is the effect, just like glue. It sticks people and families together. It holds our world together. Without it, our world would be a very, very different place.
I love you, Dad. .................................................................................................... David J. McClune November 1992