Kesey's Memorial, November 14, 2001
Thanks to all those who have written to tell us about the memorial. If you want to add your own thoughts click here.
Memorial photos:
Babbs
Kesey's last ride
Kesey gets on the bus with a little help from his friends
Zane Kesey bids farewell
From Tarot13
Free parking, smooth sailing up the Willamette street to the rhymes of
bagpipes signaling yet again the end of a long loved friend's short time on
Earth. Of course the SUN cooperated nicely. Kesey, HIS name on the marquee,
astunned and silent crowd of torn hearts whispered in the ethereal wind.
All kinds of people intersecting. Decades joined together. Reception? no
line to Heaven's doors. Into the theater, "Thank you " for coming, alone
pondering the meaning of the blank pieces of paper, the unfilled books. soft
Golden ink for speaking one's mindful memories and salutations. Beautiful
flowers, flower power, white candles, pure moments of sudden sadness. Posters
and pictures filled the lobby in places unexpected. An alter of Love. The
seats were filled and the afternoon began...
A prayer to begin with, blessed all, and we were grateful.
Who knew, Dave Frohnmayer, President of the U. of O, had such a
wonderful voice that put nerves from the edge to relaxation with enchanting
sense of humor. Funny funny funny, a pleasant surprise! we all can use them.
Courage from one who had lost children himself. He spoke of things and
experiences with Ken that I had not known of. Connections. Every word that
everyone spoke rolled from the tongue like music. It was all true, it was
all wonderful. Ken Kesey was a magnificent man.
Sterling Lord, is that his real name? was quiet, or was I trailing off to
another place to stave off the pain of listening to what I thought was a
lonely painful ache? Short term memory loss prevents me from retelling the
wise words and recollections and renaissance of the sixties era that was
evoked. But today was a funeral for the sixties, and a wake - up call.
Each one of us need to pick up the baton and continue where Ken left off in a
continuing effort to save the world and have a good ole time while at it.
The psy movement, while a small portion of the pie in American cultural
history has to keep flowing. I hope Today was indeed all recorded, not for
posterity's sake but as a teaching tool to ignite the burned out flames of
those whose hope fades. Everything was said today. It was, like a concert,
stories within stories within stories, in honor of the master storyteller who
had gumption, a twinkle, wit, compassion and a never-ending generosity so
big i called him Santa Clause. 2001 has been dramatic, the serpent is
shedding. Sometimes I, I get a great notion. When I've seemingly gone off
course, or the deep end. Though after today, the 14th going on and on into
the 15th, I know I am not alone.
I was in the fourth grade when" Sometimes" came out. i was an avid reader
but didn't read His books till high school, by then they were required
reading. i experienced the pranksters vicariously and hopped along for the
ride through osmosis. I surely have remained in Oregon all these years
because of his nearby energy, whether I realized it or not.
I came out of seclusion for this memorial service, i hadn't heard Mason
Williams for forever. When classical gas came on the radio, when young, i
would run up on my roof and feel soo elated. Today Mason Williams sang so
beautifully, "Of Time and Rivers Flowing", I wish everyone could have heard
this masterpiece.
The home video was perfection. Ken in motion, then the magician's exit,
strolling into the wood, top hat and all. Why did he leave us in the thick
of things? Audience sang with Ken..." Shall we gather at the river" like a
symphony.
Ken Babbs, like an old friend, said the only real currency is spirit. Keep
creating, keep expressing oneself. The internet is our campfire. (Well I'd
prefer a real fire) How I wish ... We astronauts of inner space. He gave
us the definition of prankster, just to be sure. Dropped names and imparted
tales of the bus, bus, and more bus,( which was parked just outside.) It was
a monumental day in Heaven on Earth.
Rachel Babbs sang with astounding sweetness and led us in "Amazing Grace".
Soundless was i as we stood in harmony. Much applause throughout the
afternoon for the speakers and performance and video but it was really for
Ken Kesey and his light.
golden wings enveloped the star in casket upon the stage though i did not
realize his presence until at last the pall bearers came to call. I thought
he had been lain to rest on Sunday 11-11 at his farm! Fooled me. I thought
the casket on the stage was a performance, not the real deal. yeah he was
with us the whole time. Then he was carried out the door. Then,
Everyone got up and left. I guess his casket went on the bus, i did not see.
i stayed in the lobby a while. Ken Babbs came out. Then, he too, disappeared.
I walked back to my car, running across the streets, as i always do. Looked
for my car in the wrong parking garage, I know I've had a good day if I lose
my car.
From Lucinda
Hello. I too was fortunate enough to attend Kesey's memorial today at the McDonald Theatre. Walking up toward the theatre and seeing Further parked in front was the beginning of a very beautiful afternoon. The theatre was full of warm and loving people, there to celebrate with each other Ken's magnificent journey through life. There were tears of laughter and tears of sorrow and tears of overwhelming appreciation for what Ken brought into each and every one of our lives.
One of the most remarkable moments I witnessed was just before the service began. Ken's mother was walking up the aisle, and was stopped by one of Ken's nurses' from his hospitalization. When asked by the nurse how Mom was doing and if there was anything she could help her with, she said "no, I'm just looking for someone". When the nurse asked who that might be, Mom responded that there was "someone in a wheelchair who needed help"....and we wonder how some people are given the gift of life and love and giving. It was beautiful.
So, Ken, may I say to you, many many thanks for so many pleasures you have given us, and for making this world a much better place to be. Enjoy your trip. Your friends out there are in for a wonderful ride.
Love, Lucinda
From James Furnish
Just arrived back in Astoria,the 200 mile return trip
w/ out incident,'cept for high water on 101....pheeww,
a long, emotional day, for sure…It was a beautiful
event. Emotional...raucous laughs...voice cracking
tributes from Babbs, Stirling Lord (KK's editor)...
a great video presentation via Zane Kesey...hilarious
footage of the Chief, some old, and some not so old..
It was good to see the old footage.. the young, vital
strong Kesey...and the later stuff, the portly
grandfather images we see on intrepidtrips.com, and
some of a man clearly ill.. Saw Kreutzman, Weir, and
Hart...Kesey's mom, Geneva, and all the family.. they
bore up well...gracious...walking the aisles of
McDonald Theatre, giving and taking hugs, smiles,
handshakes and love...The place was packed to the
rafters with the faithful, stomping, cheering, clearly
an outpouring of sincere love, admiration and grief
for the loss of an icon, a leader, an innovator. He was
one of a kind, let there be no mistaking that.
From Cynthia
I wrote this bit just after the memorial yesterday, while the charge was
still on and could be shared well with friends.
Already I've received a few replies from folk who didn't even know he'd
died, or had completely lost touch - one of them was Florian Scott who
rode front-guard in the Brooks Brothers' suit ahead of the Bus so many
years ago to secure hotel rooms and pave the way for the tripsters. He'd
completely lost touch with the group and it strikes me that your 2002
Field Trip may be wondrous after all.
I didn't know Ken. I knew pieces of Ken - the literary Ken, the friend Ken
that my own best friends liked so well - the tiny shot of that
tell-the-truth-and-take-no-prisoners Ken that I received once or twice in
passing. But I suppose sometimes if you see a head, and a couple of
fingers, and a foot and a belly that you can fill in the outline of the
person the pieces suggest, and you can be somewhat right; right enough,
anyway, to say "Now *that* was a man."........
Dear Friends in lots of places;
You may or may not yet know that a Great Influence has passed
on, exchanging his body for something a little more flexible in
our times of need. Some of you wanted to be at Ken Kesey's
memorial today, but couldn't make it. Others of you are simply
at wide ends of my net, and I have the feeling Ken would appreciate
the idea of our nets cast wide.
I just came from there, and want to share this small reflection
of what transpired. Feel free to pass it on if you're so moved,
but mostly just remember:
"Our job is nothing less than to Save the World" --Ken Elton Kesey
--September 17, 1935 - November 10, 2001
**************
I've just come from a seat in a theatre where I sat-and-sang in
the warmth of hundreds who loved him, while held in the minds of
thousands who loved him, held in return - I'm certain of it - by
a man who knew how to love millions at once.
The memorial for Kesey gave me much food for hope and thought.
>From Dave Frohnmayer's opening remarks, to the last Grateful Dead
refrain of "We Bid You Goodnight", fattened up in the middl by
a rousing chorus of "Shall We Gather at the River", led by Preacher Kesey
himself via Zane's wonderful video collage during which we all, every
last god-phearing one of us, sang our hearts out as we rode
together on one last good trip. - In his inimitable style, Kesey took all
of us with him. Whether we knew him or not - whether we knew *it* or not -
we were on the Bus.
What touched me most was Ken Babbs' wonderful retelling of A
Life lived So Large there Ain't Enough Capital Letters For It
All. I could have listened to him for hours talk about how he
and ken "Had to study things straight."
He did the Short List -
the quotes:
"It's not the destination, it's the journey. Keep your eye on
the ball and enjoy the journey."
"True currency is the Spirit - the currentcy of Spirit - let
everybody have richness of Spirit."
"Our job is nothing less than to save the world"
the Short List:
...*It* was, in part, the flow from the convergence of that
infamous writer's class, that small band of merry meet men who
lived for the perfection and excellence of achievement in their
brothers, true comrades-in-arms, that shaped so much of the road
to come, tumbling into the 1964 bus trip that was done at first
to *make* a movie, and not for control over what would come
because *of* the movie, but just because the movie would bring
on the Next Cool Thing;
...skip, skip and it's into the origin of the acid tests in the
denouement of an impossible movie editing job wherein all the
players discovered that living the trip is much more interesting
than re-living the trip, but too many dirty dishes in the
morning makes for evolution onto greener pastures, and so the
astronauts of Inner Space suited up and slipped into another
Universe;
...and all the while Ken's writing, writing notes to the last -
in the hospital bed, writing notes that are the raw material of
the next story that waits to be told, and Babbs' hand stops
waist high as he tells how many inches of unpublished writing are
poised in the wings, ready to fly out to all of us, and I'm
thrilled at the thought of getting to see more of Kesey in his
un-righted, un-edited, un-perfected-but-perfect word streams,
streams that I spent less time in than I know now I would have
enjoyed;
...where there's promise of "Spit In The Ocean #7" and "Bend In
the River Reality", and "Atlantis Rising", and "Where's Merlin"
and "Sunshine Daydream" and thousands of other poetic spoor that waft
across my ears and my minds' eye;
...with Babbs imparting to us the social action message - the
action of a society, the acts needed by a society, a fellowship,
of persons - the "take-Home" lesson that we should all - all of
us - insist, by contacting the producers of any of these
magnificent film footages shot so blithely, so intently, so long
ago by these intrepid funsters, insist and urge and make a
compelling case for the presentation of these movies as movies,
and honest-to-cod-celluloid films, and not just
the-rush-to-video - and he implored us to act on behalf of these
films, and that this would have been something Kesey would have
very much appreciated;
...the prophecy and the vision - "the Internet is the Campfire"
- even right now it's burning at http://www.intrepidtrips.com.
what a big, fat, dream.
Ken knew the digital bridge was built and he
knew it would bring us together in new and unexpected ways, and
I sat inside the McDonald theatre that Kit Kesey and another
intrepid troupe have just finished restoring into a magnificent
Venue - a capital "V" Venue - and I'm here because I got the message on
the Internet, and the word got around, and we all hooked up in real-time
and real-face - and I knew that he, also, is right, and that I'm so very
glad he is;
...and as Babbs talked, and kept promising to end his speech,
and didn't - probably because he didn't want to turn loose of
our laughter and our shared remembering him back into Being.
I didn't want him to let the moment go either, so I was secretly
saying "one more story, Babbs...just one more story, and then
I'll go to bed." - because I knew how he felt - how the talking
keeps it all moving, and words can sometimes, sometimes, change
things;
...As long as the words flow, They can be with us - with the
stories comes the Presence, the current-cy; the current see-ing
of Spirit - and I could have listened to Babbs all night, and I
told him that, in my mind, that he could always find me and tell
me a story and I'd have fresh ears to help dance the life back
into them again;
...but the most useful, most practical moment that was probably
so clearly in the spirit of the small slice of the Ken that I
know - the guy wants something that's great, and American and
novel (truly, one of the finest authors of the Great American
Novel(ty)!) - was that moment when Babbs reminded all of us
about the definition of a Prank:
a True Prank doesn't hurt.
a True Prank has to illuminate.
a True Prank must be funny...
...a samurai to the end.
*************************
Last year, after I'd finished singing at Chez Ray's one night
while Kesey had been dining, he urged me to just let the poetry
come, to let the sound be its own poem, to let the words be
their own thing - outside of the Song, even - and to trust that
the words in the sound can hold their own, and need no other
justification beyond the fact that they simply are.
It seems true that it might also be that a Spirit is its own
thing - outside of the Body, even - and so we trust that the intent and
the dream in the Spirit of Living holds its own, and needs no other
justification beyond the fact that it always will be an intent and a
dream.
Blessings to another light shared amongst the rising rest of us.
Page URL: http://pranksterweb.org/index.htm
© Copyright 2001, Rick Dodgson
Webmaster: Rick Dodgson
Revised: January/18/2001
