Through dark rainy streets
I run
Searching for a man whose face
Seems carved from flint

Years of knowledge
Have etched his face
A Scottish face
Of rugged landscape

I feel the cold
Seep in to my bones
Tonight I need
Someone who understands

He enters the room
Where he is well received
Orders a pint
Stands by the fire

By the overpass I stop
It’s raining hard now
Below me the motorway
Pounds with traffic

Soon he has company
A genial man
Just in time
For the second half

The motorway calls me
I climb onto the parapet
One last leap
And the rain would stop

The warm flames glow
Casting shadows in his features
His wit flows freely
Girls notice his eyes

The wind picks up
My blood runs cold
A cowardly end
To a miserable life

Another dram
Before you go
He’s been here two hours
The life and soul

For a second on the wind
I hear my mother
I climb down from the bridge
Wet to the bone

Gordie smiles
As I enter the bar
He hands me a drink
‘Your dry now son’

Almost a week has past
Since it was announced you will die
A day like that was always destined to come
But I am still not ready
Gordon Downie I want to write your eulogy now
And maybe you will see it
And understand how you've changed the life
Of this child of America

Gordon Downie you have made me scared
And if any sort of courage is going to come
Let it come now
I can't think of a worse time than this
Why must all my heroes leave me here?
But I understand that before a person becomes a saint they must perform miracles after their death

The three words I would use to describe you, you already know
Gordie you are a man
A machine
And a poem
The first song I remember learning how to sing, you beckoned me in from the wicked prairie winds  
And now I just hope that when I hear the news of the final words I smile
And it will be fine
But Gordie
I have avoided all the trends and clichés a young man of 20 can
I have sat in parking lots and coffee shops and witnessed beautiful things continuing as long as this world will let them

But it is you who has traveled to the hundredth meridian
The man who can get behind anything
The man who stood neck deep in the lake and yelled "you are not the ocean" and refused to swim
I learned that I must be ready to live my life because we get no dress rehearsals
I learned to be honest with who I am because no one's interested in the things I didn't do

Gordon Downie you are the machine that powered my childhood so this poem is for you
And when you die Heaven will truly be a better place
And one day I will meet you there
But until then
I will go to Bobcaygeon
And watch those constellations
Reveal themselves
One star
At a time

To know just where your're going

You must know where you've been

You must respect the history

The things others have seen

It's true in all things relative

Be it music, sports or life

If you don't know where you came from

You're just dancing on a knife

Gherig, Ruth and Robinson

May, and Mantle, Seaver too

Respect their contributions

And don't just say Ruth who?

Respect where things have come from

And the players of the past

Because you learn and make things better

It's what makes the **** game last

Jimmy Foxx, Bob Gibson, Kaline

Nestor Chylak and The Goose

They made baseball special

They gave the game a little juice

Orr, Richard and Gretzky

Gordie Howe and Howie Morenz

You have to know about them

You need the beginning to your ends

Bob Baun and Bill Barilko

Connie Smythe and yeah...the Chief

You have to know their history

They're what it is to be a Leaf

The game has changed immensely

Things can not go back in time

But to me...the old alumni

Made the game I know as mine

Respect the ones before you

The ones who laid the groundwork down

The ones who made it special

The non-pretenders to the crown

Elvis, Buddy, Harrison

Played the songs inside their heart

Lennon, Wilson and the rest

They all played a real big part

Every single generation

should learn from the one before

For if they don't know where they've come from

Then what has it all been for?

Nicklaus, Palmer, Bobby Jones

Sarazen and Hogan too

They pushed the gameright to it's limits

Now the pressure's upon you

The new breed are the teachers now

They're the ones to lead the way

When twenty or so years from now

You'll hear somebody say

"Respect who came before you

The ones who made us so **** proud

LIke  Nash and , Perry and  Taylor Hall

They played the game so loud

Pudge, Jeter, and Verlander

they brought it up a notch

They were there to stretch the limits

Not to just sit by and watch

Rory, Justin Rose and Mahan

Bubba, Dustin and the rest

They are the players of the future

They all respected the games best

So, to know where you are going

You must know where you have been

Respect, past through the future

And all that's happened in between.

A  poet was given
a life sentence today.

He'll be going the way
of Bob Marley and Frank Zappa.

I saw him perform
over the last few decades.
Hip he was and always will be.

In the ranks of Canadian poets,
his peers being  Gordon Lightfoot,
Leonard Cohen and Mister Neil Young.

He wrote about the Canadian Prairies,
about New Orleans sinking and nautical disasters.
All with soul and intellect.

A friend said,
"You didn't have to
Know know know him
to love love love him".
And that's true.

With a heavy heart I ponder the noon news.
I recall the day I heard of John Lennon's ******.

The only time I ever cried
over the death of a celebrity.

Thoughts and prayers out to you Gordie,
and your family and friends.

Ironically tragic for one so Tragically Hip.

Father-

You were so many icons:

The Chief to me.

My ***** Harry.

The Chris to my Gordie.

An Alexander Supertramp.

The Rick of Casablanca.

Father-

You were so many nouns:

Protector,

Guardian,

Hero,

Breadwinner,

Rapscallion.
­
Father-

You were so many adjectives:

Funny,

Caring,

Interesting,

Strong,

Adventurous.­

Father-

You were my biggest downfall:

Five times I’ve seen you cry.

For me, always baseball games.

Three school events attended.

Too many addictions.

One ruined childhood.

Father-

You were so many villains:

Jack, the dull boy.

Gollum, with your own Precious materials.

Michael Madsen, every time.

Keyser Soze.

The ego of Marsellus Wallace.

Father-

You were so many roles:

Liar,

Gambler,

Alcoholic,

Promise-Breaker,

Black hole.

Father-

You were so many problems:

Unreliable,

Restless,

Invisible,

Hopeless,

Cold.

­Father-

I am what you made me.

I am evil and broken.

I am cold and emotionless.

I am restless and relentless.

I am insane and dark.

I am conflicted and confused.

Father-

I am everything you aren’t.

I am everything you are.

I am nothing good.

I am nothing inside.

I am a part of you.

I am because of you.

Father.

I wouldn’t be without you.

But I would have been better off.

Asks Chris Chambers.

Asks me.

Not much innocence
Left in American life

Appeals to foreign fears
And prejudices of whites

But I saw that dear deer
By the Celtic Cross last night

Like Gordie LaChance once did
Stand By Me through the strife

Carl Reiner became an atheist
Because of the Holocaust
And truly I understand
No possible way to comprehend
What happened in that land

His son made wonderful movies
The Princess Bride and Stand By Me

As you wish and Gordie LaChance
Who the quiet deer did see

And I watch: gratefully.