My friend, David Feitler, died Friday night at home with his family in Shaker Heights. Although he had cancer for many years, and I knew he would die soon, I am still having trouble processing the fact that he is gone. He was family to us. He and his beautiful wife, Zanna, always felt/feel more like siblings than friends. And both have more guts, enthusiasm, and imagination than anyone I can think of off-hand. A chemist with an MIT background, David loved science, travel, nature, the arts, books, and friends. He composed music, played the piano, folk danced, and best of all, laughed loudly and often. He loved participating in as well as appreciating art. He and Zanna faithfully sat through many of my poetry readings. One night when I was visiting, he began composing poetry. By morning he had four poems to show me, and he said he could feel more in his mind. He loved ballet, and in his fifties took lessons from the Cleveland Ballet. I can't think of many other tall middle-aged men who would willingly squeeze themselves into ballet slippers and tights and try to learn how to plie. He also loved photography and had some amazing photographs--I especially love his photographs of birds. He loved to watch the blue herons from his dining room window. Somehow he reminded me of a heron, tall and regal, his feet in the mud, his head high above the water--as if he were thinking about things, seeing more than I ever see.
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