Philip …. A walk with Murray…memories. It was lovely to tour the route that you two took. The pictures allowed me to “live” it. It brought to mind Richard’s and my walk from the apartment through the Vet. Memorial Cemetery to the Public Gardens in downtown Halifax. Moments shared with someone, precious. As we wind down I find my world is smaller. I like the feeling of acceptance but also the enchanted richness of the moments in time.
So sad, but I don't think you're depressed. Still, I have to ask myself, where am I in your life. Because you are so very large in mine. We laughed so much. Reconnecting some years ago, I remember just hearing your voice made me laugh. Oh well, see you soon. The hajj
Thank you for these memories. I can't think of a better way for two lifelong friends to spend a morning in each other's company. Your affection for Murray, and he for you, rings through.
This is such a beautiful tribute. I would love for someone to care about me so much to retread the paths we took together. Murray is blessed to have you as his friend.
Really wonderful walking the same streets still as you did with your friend . “Memories are companions”( a phrase from my father-) I’m enjoying your writing and am asking myself these days why I’m drawn to particular writing- the craft and the content. Christina
thankyou Philip for 'Murray's Walk'...I loved and miss Murray also but lacked the closeness and wonderful history you two shared. Love your description of how we live with memory and loss, so valuable and comforting. I also somehow flashed on my memory of Joyce's long short story The Dead and the thought of memory of lost ones being an affirmation of life, also a comforting thought.
Thank-you for this. Living and reliving, in walks or just mind's-eye recollections, our time with beloved friends or beloved family, is one of life's great pleasures. I like the feeling of keeping the woven fabric of life animated and moving. It warms me. And sometimes I am surprised by new insights and appreciations.
Thank you for sharing your memories of your friend. I am somewhat younger than you but have experienced the loss of close friends and always welcome the remembrances. As we age, reflecting on our own mortality naturally occupies more of our worldview. While some consider this morbid and unhealthy (a sign of depression) I personally find it liberating - the accepting of where we are now on our journey. Our society looks down on reflecting on our mortality - however if we take the time we really can learn to appreciate our own sunset years.
Hi Philip, I apologize for not having told you how much I look forward to reading Endgame each weekend. Being approximately the same age as you, I find your reflections particularly relevant. Yours today about Murray was doubly so. Mainly, it brought back memories of a dear friend, who passed away several years ago. But also, coincidentally yesterday, on the anniversary my wife’s death a year ago, I took what seems to be the same walk as you had done regularly with Murray. She and I had lived for some years on Delaware Avenue, just north of College. My walk started at her former house, then I went south to College and along College to Clinton, where I stopped for a veal sandwich at Bitando’s two blocks south of College (after pausing to decide whether I’d get a better sandwich at its cross-street rival San Francesco). Then I went for coffee at Café Diplomatico where I have spent untold hours going back 50 years. My version of the walk, though, was to go back along College, savouring the array of stores including a wonderful new bookstore, to my endpoint on Delaware Avenue. I now live in the Beaches, but my walk made me realize how much I miss the vibrancy and diversity of that section of College Street.
Philip,I read this in a hospital bed.I’m in tears.So beautiful so loving.
Thank you
Julian
Philip …. A walk with Murray…memories. It was lovely to tour the route that you two took. The pictures allowed me to “live” it. It brought to mind Richard’s and my walk from the apartment through the Vet. Memorial Cemetery to the Public Gardens in downtown Halifax. Moments shared with someone, precious. As we wind down I find my world is smaller. I like the feeling of acceptance but also the enchanted richness of the moments in time.
So sad, but I don't think you're depressed. Still, I have to ask myself, where am I in your life. Because you are so very large in mine. We laughed so much. Reconnecting some years ago, I remember just hearing your voice made me laugh. Oh well, see you soon. The hajj
Thank you for these memories. I can't think of a better way for two lifelong friends to spend a morning in each other's company. Your affection for Murray, and he for you, rings through.
This is such a beautiful tribute. I would love for someone to care about me so much to retread the paths we took together. Murray is blessed to have you as his friend.
Really wonderful walking the same streets still as you did with your friend . “Memories are companions”( a phrase from my father-) I’m enjoying your writing and am asking myself these days why I’m drawn to particular writing- the craft and the content. Christina
I imagine Philip Slayton has already thought about this, but while each entry in THE ENDGAME is
autonomously indispensable, the cumulative import of say a year's or two year's would make
for a rare and wonderful collection----.
Just a quick note of thanks for your 'Endgame' newsletter that always leaves me with new issues to consider. Please keep it up. Morley
thankyou Philip for 'Murray's Walk'...I loved and miss Murray also but lacked the closeness and wonderful history you two shared. Love your description of how we live with memory and loss, so valuable and comforting. I also somehow flashed on my memory of Joyce's long short story The Dead and the thought of memory of lost ones being an affirmation of life, also a comforting thought.
Thank-you for this. Living and reliving, in walks or just mind's-eye recollections, our time with beloved friends or beloved family, is one of life's great pleasures. I like the feeling of keeping the woven fabric of life animated and moving. It warms me. And sometimes I am surprised by new insights and appreciations.
Thank you for sharing your memories of your friend. I am somewhat younger than you but have experienced the loss of close friends and always welcome the remembrances. As we age, reflecting on our own mortality naturally occupies more of our worldview. While some consider this morbid and unhealthy (a sign of depression) I personally find it liberating - the accepting of where we are now on our journey. Our society looks down on reflecting on our mortality - however if we take the time we really can learn to appreciate our own sunset years.
Hi Philip, I apologize for not having told you how much I look forward to reading Endgame each weekend. Being approximately the same age as you, I find your reflections particularly relevant. Yours today about Murray was doubly so. Mainly, it brought back memories of a dear friend, who passed away several years ago. But also, coincidentally yesterday, on the anniversary my wife’s death a year ago, I took what seems to be the same walk as you had done regularly with Murray. She and I had lived for some years on Delaware Avenue, just north of College. My walk started at her former house, then I went south to College and along College to Clinton, where I stopped for a veal sandwich at Bitando’s two blocks south of College (after pausing to decide whether I’d get a better sandwich at its cross-street rival San Francesco). Then I went for coffee at Café Diplomatico where I have spent untold hours going back 50 years. My version of the walk, though, was to go back along College, savouring the array of stores including a wonderful new bookstore, to my endpoint on Delaware Avenue. I now live in the Beaches, but my walk made me realize how much I miss the vibrancy and diversity of that section of College Street.
Warm regards,
Jim Turk