Love from: Ed Walters
It’s hard to think of one or two specific memories with you, because so many of the memories of me - the ones that seem to connect to the parts of my identity that feel most fundamentally me - are of times with you.
Going to London with you. Japan, where you brought me sushi when I thought I had food poisoning. The ice hotel, where we lost our luggage and I almost got frostbite. Bhutan, where we learned about “night hunting” and I saw you poop outside for the first time. Vietnam, where I like to tell people I almost died. The DRC, Burundi, Zambia, South Africa. Chile and Patagonia. Morocco where we got conned with that magical dyed rock, which might have still been a worthwhile purchase. Puerto Rico meeting one of your college friends. Vienna, exploring our roots. Malta, meeting the future Secretary of Transportation. Cuba! Martha’s Vineyard, which became my own favorite place in the world. Oxford, which without your push I probably would never have attended. Trinity too, for that matter! Or Partners In Health! Or DC in general! Or Gerald and Morningside. Or getting high for the first time in Amsterdam! Too high! Like eat chocolates and giggle high.
Those are some of the “big” memory milestones. And I’ll forever think of you and thank you for making me feel worldly and cultured and adventurous, even when I’m often the opposite. I feel like I’ve had the richest possible life, and every year that goes by I appreciate more what an amazing human you are. How carefully, and with such zest and creativity, you plan trips. And think about gifts. And revel in new people. And foods. And ideas. It is amazing and instructive to observe your approach to the world. You devour it, and you savor it, and I’ve finally started to realize that thanks to you, I do too.
But … it’s the smaller and more prosaic “places” and memories that I find myself coming back to more as I get older, and as I start to think about being the age that you were when I was born. As I recognize more and more of you in me. Falling asleep in crowded rooms. Craving people while being shy. Being “on” or “off” and nowhere in between. Not being able to handle bullshit with any degree of grace.
I think about calling you when I was walking to work at Brookings or the US Senate and asking for your advice about work. Or when I was driving to Morningside in Newton every morning. Or sending you essays that I needed your help on. Or going for a walk in the woods in Concord with you and asking for your advice on relationships. Or on jobs.
I think about seeing you passionately run for the school board and not give a shit about upsetting people because you gave a shit about what was right and good and true. I think about seeing you give so much of yourself to friends, and seeing them give so much of themselves back to you. Of you always thinking about who you know in any city we find ourselves in, and not hesitating to reach out and connect. I think about you and me walking in Patagonia and talking about Two Degrees. In Tennessee Valley and talking about your entire career. Of you diving into new lives, new careers, new places … without fear and with gusto. Again, and again, and again.
I think about what you would say every time someone at work (or in my broader life) asks for advice. I use the “if you were God” question more often than I’d like to admit! And the annoying but always powerful “why” that you also so often have used on me.
I think about how you fought with every cell of your body for mom when she got sick. And against all odds, pulled her back from the brink to us. I have never been more proud of you. Or more grateful for you and all of your gifts.
As I get older I’ve come to respect you even more than I already did because I see you as a kind, passionate, brilliant, moral, idealistic human trying to find his way, and find happiness, here in the world. And doing it in a way that I don’t believe I can ever live up to, but feel so lucky to have as my gold standard and north star. I love you Dad. Thank you for all of the memories. I can’t wait to make more in the years to come.
