Jerry Rutberg – June 12th 1921 – April 2nd 1965

My father loved;

A rigours hike up to a mountains top, a well told tale and the sound of waterfalls at a trailside stop.

He love his family, his brothers and sisters, my siblings, my mother and me. He was kind and fair and for all he believed in dignity.

He loved the shining light of curiosity in a child’s eye and to light that fire within his children and students with the question “why”.

Why is the sky blue, why do the heavens shake when the winds rage on and the thunder quakes. Why does the world turn and what would happen if?

As I grow older I feel compelled to consider those gifts that fathers put away for their heirs. The birthright, those pieces of the family tradition and wealth that carry on the tribes way, so coveted they must be assigned.

I think of all the gifts my father gave to me, and as our family thins, that I can pass on to you my children and your children.

My father was a fine example of a man who’s short life touched so many. His photographs, writings, our memories and learnings are testaments and his legacy.

So I bequeath to you those treasures he gave to me.

Love nature, take pleasure in the sights and sounds around you. Embrace your family and hold them close. Listen well to others, and find truth in what they say, treat them with dignity and fight for their rights. Pass on what you have learned to those around you and never stop asking and finding answers to the questions that begin with why.

The words
falling like tears
finding their way to
nestle together on a page
can salve our wounds,

Strangers scanning their order and sentiment

can make up their own meaning

and be awed by our intuition

or stare blankly at the page

of our inscrutable scribblings

We can stand in the light,
centering our selves
and repeat them out loud and
relive the journey
they made
from our soul to the pages
we hold before us.