A Man For All Reasons

George Koehler wrote "When a person dies, it's as if a library burns down - all singular experiences, anchored in unique cells, are extinguished."

Bob Nash was three or more libraries in one decent-sized, soft-voiced, wildly-bearded and life-loving man. In his own vernacular, he became "extinct" last Sunday, February the 10th, just eight days shy of his 90th birthday. To the very last, he was unafraid of death, and met with dignity and a soft laugh, or should I say laughs? For that was the truth. The night before he died, he was visited by Linda, Camille and Grace, three exquisitely beautiful women, who loved him up and nurtured him, brushed his hair, whispered soft words to him and made him laugh. And he made them laugh. Upon leaving, he was asked what he wanted. His reply? "Well, I could use two more blondes."

Bob Nash, artist, writer, thinker, a renaissance man before there was the Renaissance, I used to tease him, and he would laugh, a low soft chuckle that emerged from behind his bushy beard. Despite macular degeneration that only allowed him a blurry view of the world, he could see so much. He recognized pretty women (strange how that works), and he would also recognize people from their general shapes and voices. But he could see - really see. He saw behind the words he heard, and he saw the images from the books he was read to.

Bob was an artist in the very truest sense of the word. He was also a lover, and he combined the two in his tiny linear drawings and his ceramics and his children's stories. Almost every funky plate, container, bowl, vase or bizarre ceramic creation had the word Love inscribed on it. And his drawings were all about love. Who on earth would create thirty-two thousand tiny drawings and paintings without at least selling a few to test the waters of the art market? Only someone who had the integrity of being an artist, and who truly loved creating. There is a special Zen feel to Bob's small drawings - each one is a haiku to movement and energy, and in all of those thirty-two thousand (the number still boggles my mind), not one is the same.

There was not a commercial bone in Bob's body, until much later in his life, when he wanted to sell his paintings so that he could travel. His dreams were to see China, India, St. Petersburg, visit Italy (mostly because of the pretty girls), France (more pretty girls), Africa, and he even once considered what space travel would do to his elderly body. He wanted to make large sums of money so that he could share it with people, and make the world a better place.

The shelves in Bob's little house, that he hand built here so many years ago, are laden with books on How To Learn Chinese, Quantum Mechanics, Physics, Relative Theory, books of poetry, autobiographies, and of course, history. Two days before he died, Steve Weintz, was visiting with Bob, and asked if he would like to be read to. "Sure," said Bob. "What would you like me to read?" asks Steve. "Oh, there's a thick blue book next door, why don't you bring that in." The only thick blue book next door was a highly technical tome on Relativistic Quantum Mechanics and Field Theory, so Steve brought it in and started to read it. The first few sentences were fine, but then it got into some highly sophisticated equations. Bob still had a grasp of what some of it meant. How in hell does anyone know this stuff to start with, especially when he didn't go to University or technical school, but simply read about it in books? And how in hell does a close to ninety year old understand any of it, or let alone wish to hear it being read aloud to him? But that was Bob Nash, an enigma, even to himself, I believe.

There are theories that say spirits remain in a place for several days after the body has passed from its purpose of being a shelter. Bob Nash's spirit, I believe, will stay not only in the little house he inhabited for 25 years, but also in the depths of the souls who met him, and knew him. What a stunning and exalted gift to give to the world!

So, a toast to the man who held several libraries worth of stories, adventures, pictures and visions in his repository - Have a fun and wild ride, Bob - you left us wanting more, and you left us knowing we are better off spiritually for knowing you.