Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness. —Mark Twain
* * *
Yesterday, at the conclusion of a memorial service at the Shepherdstown Presbyterian Church, I lifted the urn holding the ashes of my dear friend and placed it in the hands of his widow. She carried it up the aisle and set it on a table in the foyer so those who passed by could pay their respects.
It was a solemn procession until it passed through the front doors, down the steps, and onto the sidewalk. There, a Dixieland band struck up a boisterous tune while leading a sashaying multitude down King Street to the War Memorial Building. We ate and drank and toasted the life of Martin Burke.
There’s a time to be sad. And a time to be happy.
In December 2024, Martin was given a terminal prognosis of six to 12 months. He chose 12 and then added two more months for good measure. Wherever he was going, he was traveling in the slow lane.
It’s not easy to eat, drink, and be merry in the face of impending death. But we did. A cadre of eight friends gathered every month for a soiree until it became impossible.
At what would be our final gathering, Martin got our attention, looked at each of us one by one and said:
Keep doing this!
Twelve months before his death, Martin asked me to officiate his memorial service.
I was caught off-guard.
(No. Never. I won’t do that. I will not.)
No, sorry, I can’t, I said.
I think you can.
No, I can’t.
You can.
No, I can’t.
(Damn it!)
Okay, I will.
But under protest.
I don’t want you to die.
Over the next several months, Martin related his many travel adventures to me, including six weeks in the Soviet Union and a solo motorcycle trip from Michigan to Alaska.
Martin was an intrepid traveler.
I asked him if there was a message he wanted me to convey at his memorial service.
Yes. Tell them to see the world. And tell them to be happy.
* * *
[Barbara selected this poem for the front of the memorial program.]
Speaking of Loving You
I’ll tell a story a day
about you and who you were
I’ll wake up every morning
whispering your name
I’ll laugh everyday remembering
the joy of you
I’ll speak of your life
and I’ll share your story
I’ll hold you tightly in my heart
I’ll think of you every moment
with love and with wonder
and with such pleasure
I’ll tell a story a day
—Catherine Irwin
