Memory of D.R. Goff

  DR at BD's wedding reception 1982

photo by Tom Etter

Memory of D.R. Goff

© B.D. Adams

            Description:  Good Friend

“Someone who sees you for the idiot you are, but doesn’t care.”  BDA

I just “misplaced” one of the best friends I have ever had due to pancreatic cancer.

D.R. Goff ... what a character. He was my boss and a good friend! Oh, we had our differences, good and bad. However, with the differences, we maintained our separate dignities!

This is a letter to him ... hope he’s getting his mail. Like many others (him included), I never knew how sick he was.

Dear DR:

This has been one of the hardest letters I’ve ever tried to write. I want to put you in a good light, but then I needed to be honest about my memories of you.

A good friend and a total jerk! I think that sums it up.

If someone knows you longer than a year, there will be memories that run the gambit!

Many of my memories began when I moved back to Columbus from Michigan (after Germany). You invited me to be a small part of your inner circle; you hired me in 1994 to work at Quicksilver. I was rather shocked at your invitation! We were never bosom buddies. I mean, we would go to the same parties or art shows, we were competitors, but the thought of us working together was rather ... alien. Each of us at opposite ends of the spectrum ... that’s my analogy.

However, for the most part, it worked! I think we surprised ourselves ... and a few others. It was never all flowers and chocolates, but we created what was needed to succeed while you were still in Ohio, before you went to New Mexico! (And, before my illness)

I truly believed, since we weren’t sleeping together, we could work together. Honestly, I only knew of a few women that you slept with.

Not long after I started working with you, someone (a woman I barely knew) actually asked me if you were good in bed. I told her she needed to find out for herself because I didn’t know. I think she thought I was lying.

Did I ever want more than what I got from you? Nope! I liked us the way we were!

The one time, however, that really showed your emotional side to me was when Madison died (the Dober-mutt ... like a red Doberman). I’m sure you remember this.

I hadn’t been with the studio very long, just some months. Lori, your current girlfriend, had taken Madison for a walk after they had been playing in the studio. Not raucous play ... just time for him to go out.

Within moments, Lori ran back to the studio and said she thought Madison was dead! He had dropped in Bank Street and wouldn’t get up! Lori cried fitfully! You got hold of Joe to come with you and me in the van to check out Madison. It seemed this was in slow motion, but things were actually going fairly fast! Joe helped you to put Madison in the van. You told him to go back to the studio. We got on our way to the Chittenden Vet. Clinic.

One of the Techs helped you take the poor dog inside. I was in the waiting area and kept the hope that Madison might have had a seizure. He would be all right with treatment. Those were my wishes until they came out to tell me that I could go to our pet to say good-bye. So much emotional pain when a pet dies. They pronounced him dead. So ... so sad.

Your face was very wet. Your reaction took me a bit by surprise. I knew you had feelings, but ... well, you really showed them this time. I hadn’t cried until they came out to get me. I put my arms around this big, loveable dog and cried like a baby. You still had tears and sat as a helpless figure in the chair by Madison. I went around the table and put my arms around your head and held you close. You put your arms around me, in the same manner. That was the most intimate we had ever been to each other. We didn’t hug for long ... we just called for the tech. We left Madison at the Clinic and went back to the studio.

I still cried in the van as you drove. I tried to man-up, but I am a woman.

When we got back to the studio, Lori was still there and kept apologizing. I let her know it wasn’t her fault ... it was Madison’s time. He was 11 or 12 years-old.

I sat at my desk and swallowed my tears. You had stopped your tears ... arms folded on your chest, leaned against the dressing room’s doorjamb, and faced my desk.

It was a sad time, but you spoke first. “I know what my next dog will be.”

Lori and I just awaited your next words. Lori was still very sad. I just looked at my desktop.

“A poodle ... a black poodle.” You said this so casually I thought I didn’t hear right! You grinned very widely to me!!

It was like I had been pricked with Nitrous Oxide. I nearly fell on the floor from laughing so hard!! DR Goff with a ... POODLE!! These were the best mood changing words you could have ever chosen! For me, anyway. You laughed as hard as me!

Lori had no clue about our jubilation! She smiled, but only in reaction to us. Between the two of us, we filled her in about the “DR Goff Birthdays” of the past ... “The Poodle Roasts!” You even pulled out an old flyer/invitation to show her.

I assured her that the roasted animal was a rabbit ... not a dog. However, with you, DR, one might believe almost anything.

Ramone (a black standard poodle) came to live at the studio (never roasted, but much loved) and, a few years later, we celebrated your last Poodle Roast before you trekked off to New Mexico!

That day with Madison was so emotional! The full swing from horrible sadness to uncontrolled merriment.

Just knowing you, DR, was in itself, filled with memories. Save me a place up there.

Sleep well, my friend.

Brandy

I hope those who read this will read it in the vein it was intended. Did I ever love

DR as a man? No. Did I love him as a person? Yes ... dearly. Always wanted the best for him

... including now. I truly hope those Angels treat him with the respect he deserves.

Schlaf Gut, mein Freund!!

DR & the Boyzz

D.S.Canning Photography 2005