My friend David Somers passed away on Friday, April 24th. I came home to the email with the sad news this afternoon, and was so overcome with a sense of loss for the world. The world has lost a good, good man. A torch-bearer for the arts. A brilliant thinker, a leader. A goof. Such a good man. He was my boss, sort of. It's been almost 2 years since I last saw David, and the last time I saw him, he was being his usual self, cracking jokes about my wedding and honeymoon (which I had just gotten back from) wearing an awesome, funky green tie that hinted at his unconventional side, and smiling that wide, bright, goofy David Somers-smile. He was a happy man. That was the remarkable quality of David, he was always, always happy. He seemed so satisfied with his life. It was contagious, you felt better about your life witnessing how satisfied he was with his. In the two years and more that I worked with him, I never once saw him feeling anything other than genuinely pleased.
He was my boss, the Curator of the Peel Heritage Complex, but I won't remember him that way. I will remember him as my friend, who had a crazy "When you ride alone, you ride with Hitler!" WWII propaganda poster on one wall of his tiny office, and a crazy optical bullseye painting on another; my friend who would tell me to "rock on, children" when I'd go to close his office door to the noise of a school tour that was ripping up the gallery; my friend whose writing provoked the most thoughtful appreciation of arts and culture in this country; my friend whose inherent brilliance always taught me something new, even when we were just trading snappy come-backs; my friend whom I wish I could've gotten to know better.
I wish that he continues to be happy, however he finds it. I am happy to have known him; I am happy that he was my friend.