Two people who made the world a better place during the time they were here were my brother, Ben, and good friend, Jimmy Underwood. Many, many people are better for having known them and we are all diminished for losing them.
My Brother Ben
This truck is also dedicated to the memory of my brother Ben. He was around when the rainbow Subaru was making its way all over Lansdale and North Wales. He liked the idea and it fit with his personality as it was back then. He was more a poet than an artist, but he was a very pensive and curious person. He had a great appreciation for beauty both seen and unseen. Unfortunately he never saw the Subaru completed as he too was taken far before his time on October 26th 1991. The Subaru had not yet been completed. It quickly was, however, and led the funeral procession of a hundred cars to where Ben was laid to rest. He got one last ride in it.
“Heaven” was once again singularly impatient to have his soul return so he was taken far too early. He would have ended up being the father with five kids and probably three dogs. He would have probably ended up being a counselor that helped troubled teens or the like. He had a big heart, so he would have been the sort of person to find the loneliest person in a room and go over to make him or her feel special. He liked being happy and he liked making others happy…the sort of person who would have been anyone’s choice to share a beer with or a foxhole with. He would have been all those things, and he already was all those things. But he was taken far too early and all who knew him were diminished as a result.
Festooning the truck is a fitting way to keep Ben in mind…his memory remains. He would have absolutely loved it. He lives on in our memories and we celebrate his life with this.
My Friend Jimmy
James Underwood was a brilliant man. He was at least on a par with 3 or 4 college professors that I remembered and respected for their knowledge and wisdom (two qualities that I hold in the highest regard). He was a chemist when he died, but his job did not define him. He could have been anything, done anything as far as anyone who really knew him was concerned. Unfortunately mastery of his potential eluded him as it does for so many of us. He was my friend for only a few years, but I learned a lot from him and still have many fond memories of the time we spent together. He was one of the people who helped me experience my own version of the late 60s in the early nineties.
He was very familiar with my Subaru. He rode in it, and he absolutely loved it. He was an old soul who had great appreciation for artistic freedom. He was also a poet and loved the music of Bob Dylan and John Prine. Listening to that music in the Subaru allowed Jimmy to relive some old memories of his own that he really did live through in those times in New York.
Jimmy died long before his time. The demons that were chasing him finally caught up to him in August of 1992. Only a few things remain that are reminders of him. One is the book “Meetings with Remarkable Men,” by G. I. Gurdjieff. It was given to him by his son, Lukas, whom he rarely ever saw. He lent it to me to read, but I never got a chance to give it back. Jimmy was himself a remarkable man in many ways and it doesn’t matter that the world doesn’t know it because I know it. Painting the truck is a new way to remember him.
