After thinking about him all weekend, I lost my friend Rick on a Tuesday and my world is emptier now. I met Rick through the Viking re-enactor community in which he was known as Farman. He was a quiet person at the meetings, often sitting in a corner, his back to the wall, working on leather at the table. I admired his leather work and that's what got us talking.
Neither of us were what you might call a "people person." But when a person such as us likes someone, we care deeply, are loyal friends and generous to a fault. That was Rick.
Like me, Rick was an Army veteran. We'd talk about how we hated working with the public--especially in retail. He told me that he'd let people believe he was a burned out Vietnam vet hanging on by a thread and that made people fear messing with him. We enjoyed a good laugh over that one. Whatever it takes to keep "them" at bay, you know...We loved a lot of the same books and movies. We loved our pets and were both crazy about dragons. We were both into the same sorts of historical re-enactment: buck-skinning (black powder, muzzle-loader, mountain man stuff) Renaissance and Viking. After I was no longer a member of the Viking group, I'd drive up to Denver to visit Rick. I'd bring up a growler of good beer from Bristol Brewing Company, bring a dish or two as well and sometimes another friend of ours from the Viking group would meet us at Rick's place. We'd work on some sort of "Viking-ish" project, drink beer and have a good meal. Afterward Rick and I would watch a movie before I headed back to Colorado Springs. Often Sissy, his little girl cat, would hop in my lap and purr.
I kept Rick supplied with beeswax for various projects--like the leather water bottles he made for several of us. He would give me various things like one of the water bottles and a pouch with a Viking design painted and tooled upon the leather. He also did leather sleeves for a couple of Norse drinking horns I have. When he was inspired, his work and artistry were amazing.
I didn't get up to Denver all that often. I hate the drive and have gotten the majority of my speeding tickets on I-25 going to or from the big city. For the most part, Rick and I would talk on the phone or correspond via e-mail. I'd been thinking about him a lot the week before he died. Of course, this would happen while I was at work, dealing with the public, or in my car driving out through the hills and valleys of cellular phone dead zones on the way out to work with my horses.
Still, I'd think about something I planned to say: We'd talk about getting over to the Renaissance Festival, or about the latest storyline in my Beowulf novel, maybe something about swords or knives, perhaps about a leather project or my Norse drinking horn workshop.
He'd sent me a "friends" request via Facebook. I'm not too active there, so I let it be for a couple days and then received the e-mail that he was gone. I feel so empty now.
On 14 August at 7pm I met the same folks-and more--who were in my Norse drinking horn workshop. We did a Viking style Blot, drinking mead from a horn and in the third round, we honored the dead. I paid tribute to my friend Rick and hope that what I said honors him and gives him solace in the afterlife.
Karen Emanuelson