I took this photo of my dad 10 years ago, in December of 2012. He is proudly standing with the Herb Bus as we FINALLY figured out how to set up the new clinic tent for the very first time. 

On that day I titled my Herbalista blog post “Shelter from the Storm” in reference to how this little tent would help to protect our budding community project. But looking back on this photo now, it means so much more.

Earlier this year my father passed away. And while it’s been a difficult time, grappling with the complexities of grief and loss, it’s also given me the chance to explore his life a little bit more.

I’ve spent time reading some of his articles in the Great Speckled Bird, Atlanta’s radical underground newspaper of the 60’s and 70’s. I’ve looked through his books, learning more about his influences and even trying my hand at some Bertolt Brecht, one of his favorites and who, like my father, was also a refugee of war.

I have loved listening to more of the music that he loved, German cabaret, Villa Lobos, and Vivaldi. I’ve smiled remembering his extraordinary whistling and how, every now and then, he would break out in a quick rendition of his favorite revolutionary song “La Cucaracha“.

But most of all, I’ve appreciated the chance to think more about his approach to the world —

• how much he loved community and hated borders;
• how fearless he was in speaking his truth even when it was an unpopular opinion or meant sticking out his neck around big boots;
• and how he could still appreciate the beauty of life, even with eyes wide open to the reality of its horror and conflict.

My dad was a complicated man with a brilliant mind and a twinkle in his eye. My sister and I miss him very much and maybe, if we are lucky, we will be able to live out our days with similar gusto.