A dear friend of mine died several days ago. I was eleven when my parents hired him as my french horn teacher, and he brought the most delicious, crazy sanity into my life. He taught me how much fun it could be to do something you love, to always find the whimsy in everything, and to never take things too seriously. That third one is still a challenge for me. He taught me how to make a white Russian, that playing music really loudly while pointing in rhythm is absolute bliss, and that burping excessively while pulling ones own finger is one of the purest joys ever. He turned me on to The Alan Parsons Project and delighted in calling me The Kali Parsons Project. He adored me, cared deeply about me, and was pretty much the only adult at the time who saw the amazing in me simply for being who I was, not for the things I could do.
I will dearly miss sharing this planet with him and will forever remember my weekly lessons on life with him...during which every once in a while we even played french horn.
Love you, Stuart.
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