My friend died recently and I have had a hard time getting my balance ever since. In our lives we are very fortunate if we have a real, true friend.
Chauncy Lively was my friend. We met quite by accident at a restaurant in Gaylord about four years ago. His wife, Marion, had just died and he was sitting alone at a table for two. I entered to find the whole place full. I noticed Chauncy sitting alone so I asked if he minded if I sat with him.
We chatted a bit and discovered that we both had a passion for trout fishing and rivers. We parted and I thought no more of the meeting. That was until a few days later when I was paging through a book on fly tying. I came across a picture of Chauncy along with an article on tying a particular fly.
I found his name in the phone book and sent him a note saying that I was unaware that I had lunch with such a well known fly tier. He called me a few days later and downplayed the article but said he was going to be in Gaylord next week and wanted to know if I was interested in lunch.
So began for me a wonderful friendship with a really special and decent person. We shared an interest in lots of things including fishing, fly tying, photography, music, politics, poetry, animals, stories, and the pure delight of life and all that goes with it.
Chauncy knew lots of things and could come up with solutions and inventions that amazed me. I knew very little and could not solve a thing so I was in awe. He taught me fly tying and did so with patience and understanding. I always felt completely comfortable in his presence. He valued people and harbored no ill towards another.
Cooking was not one of Chauncy’s strong suits. I can cook a little so that helped me give a little back. Good food and conversation were special with Chauncy. For example, one Thanksgiving we gathered at the house of a mutual friend, Linda Floyd, for dinner. The three of us sat for four and a half hours at dinner, a memorable occasion of good friends, excellent wine, enjoyable conversation, and a special prayer of thanks to the One who made it possible. Chauncy told us that day that we were the reason he stayed in Michigan rather than return to Pittsburgh. He said that after Marion died he was lost and thought it best to go back but has stayed in Michigan because of our friendship.
Chauncy had a library of stories that he spun quite often and often more than once. He lived life as full as possible with many interests and passions. The river, trout, and fly tying were his specialties. He also could get his hackles raised when talk of planting trout, killing trout, or bait fishing entered his ears. More than the hackles on his neck but also the few hairs on his head stood up when the subjects of the National Rifle Association, Republicans, snowmobiles, rock and roll, and a few other select subjects were brought up.
Maybe we got along so well because we had the same passion and enjoyed similar aspects of life that we could share and celebrate with each other. I don’t know. I do know that I have lost a wonderful friend and miss him very much but I am most grateful to Marion or God for bringing us together.
A good friend is "rarer than radium," a true gift, and a joy to behold.
Robert Frost’s poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay" sums up what Chauncy was and what he meant to me. I will leave you with it knowing that to me Chauncy was gold.
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Nothing Gold Can Stay Nature’s first green is gold |
RWOL
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