Time Experience Thoughts

Funeral Service for Terrance Richard Tenove Prelude Music, "Amazing Grace" Welcome and Eulogy, by Scott Vanatter Music, "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" Remarks and Eulogy, by Abe Ohanian Music, "Trees" Prayer, by David Peale Graveside Graveside Remarks, by Abe Ohanian Prayer, by Mr. Douglass [Welcome and Eulogy by Scott Vanatter] Welcome. We are gathered together to pay tribute to Terry; to extend our love and sympathy to his family, Mr. and Mrs. Tenove, his brothers Glen, Michael, Brian, and other relatives (including his grandmother, Dovie Belle Wales); and to comfort one another. We've each had our own quiet reflective times alone in the past couple of days. We may need more, but for now, we meet together to find strength in our unity and fellowship. Your presence and kindness is appreciated by Terry's family. ~ We all acknowledge that this is a difficult thing to understand. It takes time and patience to sort ...

In her diligent efforts to clean out our garage, Becky moved some of my boxes of stuff (memorabilia) from one spot to another. Before being placed safely in its new spot, it got tipped over and out spilled some of my papers and art work from elementary school and junior high school. I am guessing that I drew these two pictures in the late '60s. I seem to recall that I added the song lyrics -- my own words to live by -- at a later date. Looking back we have laughed that prior to me getting religion, these two phrases made up my entire moral view of the world. My religion. On the chopper, "All we are saying, is give peace a chance." (John Lennon). And, on my version of a flat track racing motorcycle, "Whisper words of wisdom . . . let it be." (Paul McCartney) Of course, I was influenced by the times, pop (rock) music, the Beatles, etc. And, to be honest, I also drew one other picture of a motorcycle and had this third motto inscribed on it, "I don't wa...

I've grown accustomed to her face. She almost makes the day begin. I've grown accustomed to the tune that She whistles night and noon. Her smiles, her frowns, Her ups, her downs Are second nature to me now; Like breathing out and breathing in. I was serenely independent and content before we met; Surely I could always be that way again - And yet I've grown accustomed to her look; Accustomed to her voice; Accustomed to her face. . . . But I'm so used to hear her say "Good morning" ev'ry day. Her joys, her woes, Her highs, her lows, Are second nature to me now; Like breathing out and breathing in. I'm very grateful she's a woman And so easy to forget; Rather like a habit One can always break - And yet, I've grown accustomed to the trace Of something in the air; Accustomed to her face. (From, of course, My Fair Lady )

“Forty years since our first kiss it’s been . . .” I. First (Summer and Fall of 1967, then many months later…) My arm around your shoulder . . . fresh and cool and new. Quick and sweet - though, it took an eternity to get to you. II. Best (Spring of 1970, then a few weeks later…) My arm around your shoulder - again . . . whole and serene and calm. Long and pure - this dreamlike kiss lingers on. Time and our hearts stand still. Walking away; down the street, Floating. Just off the ground, I walk along. Can’t hear. Can barely breathe; don’t care. Hearts swelled; hearts warm. Numb with feeling; lips still tingling. Touch my finger to my lips; checking this is real (and remembering). It is; it is no dream. Can never forget; it's never far from my sweetest thoughts. Even today. Even now. III. Sweetest (Senior Year, 1971-1972) The day, the night, the moment I purpose to tell you With all my heart I love you, With my whole trembling soul, My voice breaks My voice ...

We Meet, 1967 Looking across the shrinking room; coming closer towards that face. Surely this is a part of me , forgotten about; but a part that is so natural and pleasant. Easily we talk and continue to look -- without looking away. Happy Together, 1967-1968 Growing so accustomed to that face; Not just the eyes, but the whole face -- the whole person behind that face. Everyday imagination leaps immediately to that image -- to that face. Nightly dreaming of that face eases me into slumber. Holding Hands, 1967 Now I know I have lost something. What? It was here; I just had it. Where did it go? I want it back. Ah. That's it. The touch that further connects. A Chance Meeting, 1970 After so long, I am amazed At how lovely, glowing, and even eternal is that face. Can't stop stealing peeks at that face. Can't stop gazing at that face. I can't stop dreaming of that face. We Meet Again, 1971 Another time. Almost can't look at that face. Try not to be too obvious. I wa...

Becky comes back to a Duarte High School dance, sophomore year. She had blossomed into a young woman; I was still just a skinny kid. But, 'O what a lucky [kid I] was!' (1969-1970)