ASIS Las Vegas November Chainlink Newsletter

Eulogy for a Departed Comrade
© 2009 D. Anthony Nichter, CPP
.aka Rev. Sensei Fa Li Shakya

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on his tombstone
From the beginning to the end.

He noted that first came the date of his birth
And spoke of the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the 'dash' between those years.

The opening of this oft-quoted poem by Linda Ellis hits the mark right on target. We all have two auspicious dates in our human journey on Earth: the date we arrive, and the other when we depart. In between we are cognizant of countless other dates, the proverbial 'dash' as it were, marking off the events that shape and define our mortal existences. Ellis continues:

For that dash represents all the time
That he spent alive on earth,
And now only those who loved him
Know what that little line is worth.

The call came into my office and, probably like most, it took a moment for the information to sink in. Another in the long list of persons I knew either directly or indirectly left this plane. And the literature from the funeral home succinctly stated: "David Austin, 56, born Dec. 29, 1952, in Shreveport, La., passed away unexpectedly Oct. 23, 2009, at 11:29 a.m., at Southern Hills Hospital."

Dave Austin

There they were again, those dates, the arrival and the departure. Somewhere along the 'dash' our paths intersected for a total of 18 years. As I hung up the phone, I recalled that span, my portion of the dash during Dave's nearly 57 years on this plane. It came in three distinctive phases. The first was in late 1989 and extended through 1991. While employed as a private investigator, I had several cases requiring that I go into the Hilton Hotel and Casino where Dave was the director of security. Typically I was following an out-of-town guest, who also happened to be the mischievous husband of a client/wife back in Chicago or wherever. Dave was always most accommodating with assisting us regarding certain information that facilitated our ability to keep tabs on the subjects.

For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our 'dash'.

The second phase commenced around September 1993. I was part of the early hiring wave for the then newly minted MGM Grand Hotel and Casino. Dave was still at the Hilton when I was asked to conduct a thorough two-day tour of the then uncompleted massive facility. I was given one objective: to assess whether the current departmental hierarchy was sufficient, or would it require a high-ranking and visible assistant director to the then vice president of security. I did not require a second day. By the end of the first day I concluded that a strong assistant would be absolutely needed, absent that, the vice president himself could count on living in one of the 5,000+ rooms, only occasionally going home to see the wife and kids. Dave's name was on a short-list of potential candidates, but his reputation preceded him, and the choice was clear.

So think about this long and hard;
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.

As the departmental training manager, I received a call one day that my father had been brutally attacked while on one of his evening strolls. He was in a coma and things were touch-and-go. I was stricken with grief at what had occurred to the old man, and supreme frustration at being over 2,300 miles away at the time. Unknown to me, Dave was silently observing the trauma I was undergoing because he heard the first call from his office a few feet away. As he apparently saw me melting down at my desk, he came into my office, walked right up telling me that whatever I needed (time off, funds, etc.) he would accommodate to the degree possible. And then, right there, sensing my inner turmoil, he did the most unexpected. He gave me a mano-a-mano hug telling me that somehow I would pull though this and I was to take as much time off as I needed, if I needed it at all. Ellis continues...

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.

Dave's expression of empathy did much to assuage my trauma. As the hours passed and more calls came into my office, Dad was out of the coma and progressing well. The crisis, for now, was averted. It still felt good knowing that someone out of the 10,000 employees knew my plight and gave a damn.

The third phase was the years Dave and I periodically kept in touch, usually through intermediaries, after I ventured out with my own company. While participating in forensic advisory services on both sides of the aisle involving the Great Green Barn (as we called the MGM Grand), Dave and I would meet, greet, catch up on events, and then go our separate ways, like two old war horses dredging along our relative paths. Ellis continues...

If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering that this special 'dash'
Might only last a little while.

In my sometimes non-secular role as an ordained Zen priest, I am asked questions about the Buddhist perspective regarding the nature of the soul, death, reincarnation, transmigration, consciousness and other related metaphysical topics. It reminds me of the many long late-evening chats Dave and I had in his office on these very topics. He was apparently seeking answers to these issues and found a degree of solace in the emerging arena involving the synthesis of Eastern Mysticism and quantum physics. He was reasonably read on science fiction. He knew the authors and had a good grasp of the elementary theories. He liked the notion of our egos (little selves) dissolving into the Great Cosmic Field of Consciousness, in essence, returning to the Source and becoming One with the Many. Indeed, he had some strong Zen-like and Taoist ideas. I think a verse from the poem imprinted on the Palm Mortuary memory card for Dave is about as close to the Zen/Tao perspective as one might appreciate.

"I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grains;
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight.
And I am the soft star that shines at night."

Dave made quite a lasting and uplifting impression on the many people whose lives he touched. That was evidenced during the vigil services I attended, sitting in the back in my Buddhist robes contemplating that which he and I both subscribed. "Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there; I did not die." Perfect! And as Linda Ellis concludes...

So when your eulogy is being read

With your life's actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

Fair well Dave!