365 True Things: 194/Duane

Yesterday afternoon, we lost one of our oldest friends here on the Monterey Peninsula, Duane Cole. His health had been declining, though I don't know if anyone knew just how rapidly. He was seventy-five.

Duane grew up in Ithaca, New York. He served a couple of years in the army. I don't recall just what brought him to California, but somehow he started hanging out in Palo Alto with Jerry Garcia, Janis Joplin, and other musicians. Jerry invited Duane to play bass in the Grateful Dead, but Duane declined: he was more interested in guitar. He reckons that decision saved his life.

I believe I met him at Monterey Peninsula College, in the darkroom. He had a large-format camera and loved to take black-and-white photographs on local rivers: formal studies of flowing water. He also occasionally wrote for the newsletter that I edited and produced. (When I would change his words, even in the most minor way, I knew a discussion would ensue. He didn't quite get the editing process.) For a while, we were in an Artist's Way group together with a few other creative folks.

For many years he lived in a trailer up a long canyon called Palo Colorado: propane powered, no electricity. A few years ago, when it came time for him to quit that place (perforce), we helped him "move." I put the word in quotes, because he basically abandoned the structure, which was a wreck. "Moving" involved packing his clothes and a couple of boxes of food and mementoes. And his cameras.

After that, he lived for several years at the Breakthrough Center, home of a men's group that he rediscovered thanks to David. Breakthrough became his strongest ally and support for his last few years. A couple of the guys from the center were with him at the nursing home when he died. I'm grateful to them that he wasn't alone, although he was unconscious and had been for a few days.

David went to see him the day before he left this earth.

Me, I'll remember him from his last visits to us. When we first got Milo, Duane house- and dog-sat for us. He loved Milo and was always pleased by what a joyful ruckus Milo kicked up whenever he'd come by. We also invited him over for dinner and a movie now and then, and since he liked to drink a couple of beers (Steel Reserve was his brand), he'd usually spend the night. The last time he came, we watched Tommy Lee Jones in The Homesman, which we all liked—a different sort of movie.

One of his favorite lines was "I wonder why . . ." Which could be exasperating.

He was a kind, gentle man. And I will miss him.

I've searched my collection for photos of Duane, and only found three. Here they are, complete with the captions I supplied on Flickr.

December 16, 2010: Duane is shoring up the fence 'round back
and installing a couple of gates, in anticipation of Milo's arrival.
Today he made the gates. Now he's at the market getting
ingredients for pea soup with ham. Now, that's the sort of houseguest I like!
He's also just a plain ol' great guy.

April 6, 2012: He's cutting his hair, shaving, and getting a new driver's license.
No more the homeless look for him. He wanted to document the transformation.
(Alas, I never got around to taking one of him cleancut.)

July 5, 2013: Duane came by this afternoon to help David pick up some wood
(Duane has a truck; the wood, some of it, came in 16-foot lengths).
Tomorrow, they're going to get started building our composting bins.
Can't wait to have a decent composting spot!
The worms, who so far have been doing all the work, will no doubt be happy too.