Jon Sanders, friend

Pegi, when I think of you, the first images seem to be those from outdoor adventures or places from far away—Newfoundland, Tuscany, Yucatán, Dolly Sods West Virginia. Then images of Temagami, Go Home Lake, Christian Island, the Don Valley emerge. We are always walking or canoeing, quietly talking, listening. There seems, however, to be a center pole around which the collage of thoughts swing. It is the Riverdale Avenue kitchen. We are sitting on stools sipping wine or Jack Daniels. I have a lot of questions I would love to ask you but somehow it is your curiosity which blooms. You want to know what we think, how we feel, how we’re doing. There is an acceptance of how the tangle and jumble of our lives have played out. Like the undergrowth in wilderness, it is not there to be pruned or tidied or judged. You want to leave our campsite the way it was found—well, maybe better. While we could always find you out in nature, at the kitchen table you found out about us— our better nature. Daughter Kate remembers that you made her feel calm and listened to and that her own love of nature came from our times camping and canoeing. The two connect. Finding calm and peace even when storm winds blow; listening and being listened to are the greatest of gifts—gifts that can only come from a feeling of love. How can we ever thank you!?

Sitting in the kitchen, I hear your soft laugh. Music is playing in the next room. You lean to one side and bursts into song. “Oh, what a wonderful morning; Oh, what a beautiful day; I’ve got a wonderful feeling; Everything’s goin’ my way.” We hear your voice. We always will. All we have to do is go outside and listen.