Footprints in the Sand

Conventional wisdom tells us that life is temporal and that for so many of us, our legacies are like footprints in the sand, washed away by the next tide in the ever-changing flux of time. But we humans endowed with living memories and the ability to leave footprints more durable through our recorded words or artwork or stories passed down have the possibility of keeping our loved ones alive even as they depart. 

 

So it is that I want to take a moment to acknowledge the passing of two more stellar human beings who have crossed over into the unknown places awaiting us all—Wolfgang Liebelt and Danai Gagne. 

 

Wolfgang was a neighbor who, with his wife Linda, lived two doors down from us and welcomed us into the neighborhood with a tree-planting project. That Mayten sapling we planted in 1982 is now just outside my window, some 20 feet high and waving in the breeze as I write. That same year Wolfgang and Linda helped us plan our first neighborhood Christmas Caroling, offering their house as an after-singing gathering place. When my three-year-old daughter Kerala and her best friend Ariel somehow managed to topple their Christmas tree and break some precious family ornaments, they forgave it all and still offered their house the next year with stabilizing twine attached to the wall—and for many years after that. When they both moved out of the neighborhood, still they always came back for the caroling party, that has continued on to this day. Already suffering from Parkinson’s and then cancer, Wolfgang couldn’t make the last party, but we called him and Linda on Facetime and sang Oh Tannebaum to them both. 

 

Wolfgang was an extraordinary handy-man, who time and time again generously helped us with various house projects, sometimes for money as he built that cabinets that hold my CD’s (to my right as I write, a solid footprint he left) and often for free. His mark is everywhere in our house and yard. His day job had to do with some city finances and his temperament could not have been more different than mine— a man of few words with artistry in his woodworking and later photography, but no music or dance or poetry inclinations. But there are many ways to be in this world and many ways to contribute and he reminded me that one could be a wonderful neighbor without having to be a best friend. I’m grateful that this last Spring, our old upstairs neighbors Ken and Carol, Karen and I and Linda and Wolfgang had the good sense to enjoy a wonderful lunch together, equally enjoying reminiscing about the neighborhood and discussing our current lives. 

 

We got a message a few days ago while we were in Portland that Wolfgang was on the way out and would we come visit him? We planned to go this Monday when we returned to San Francisco, but he passed on Saturday night. I’m sorry to miss that chance to say goodbye, but happy that we shared both our deep appreciations and funny stories at that lunch last Spring. (Wolfgang in the middle below).

Danai Gagne was an Orff colleague who lived in New York. She was born in Greece and was in the very first class of students at the Orff Institute in Salzburg when it opened in 1961. I mostly got to know her as we crossed and criss-crossed paths at the American National Conferences, a few Orff Symposiums in Salzburg and a one-day workshop she did for our local chapter. She came into the Orff approach through dance and was well-loved, respected and admired by all who knew her. I hadn’t known she was ill, so was surprised to hear the news of her passing last week. I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to tell her directly how much I appreciated her, but as we attended each other’s workshops and enjoyed chatting in the halls, I believe she knew. Last year, six or seven iconic teachers from that first generation of American Orff teachers passed and here we are again. It is simply the way of this life and sobering to find myself closer to the front of the line. But so it goes and so we go.

 

This morning, I gave special attention to the end of my Heart Sutra chant:

 

Gya te gya te hara gya te hara so gya te bodhi-sowaka Han ya shin gyo

 

Which roughly translates to:

 

“Gone, gone beyond, everyone gone to the other shore, awakening. Hail the goer!”

R.I.P., Wolfgang and Danai. You both have left so much more than footprints in the sand.