Mary Yost thought of Alan as "pater familias." And how he was like a father
to so many people of all ages on this list, always ready to dispense wisdom,
thoughtfulness, and sharing of his own struggles; ready to give strength,
encouragement, and hope.
Like so many of those on the list, I never met Alan either. And just as Pat
Schark said, I don't know whether he was "tall or short, or what color his
eyes were, or whether he had a full head of hair or was bald." Still, I felt
as if I *knew* him, too.
Like Mary, when I think of Alan, I think of him in a "paternal" sense. And
this is how I will remember him:
The White-Haired Man
by May Sarton
This man sowed faith wherever he moved.
It was in his hand when he held yours at meeting.
Never so called out of yourself, never so loved
Were you or anyone as by this man in greeting.
For he kept nothing of the thirsting flood.
It poured through him unstinted like a river.
A quickening essense transfused through the blood,
Afterwards strength was in you, he the giver.
For this man, each was given holiness in trust,
Each with a secret gift and none the same,
The gift of healing healing because you must,
Because healing was in you in God's name.
Never doubt. Never find it out too late,
But now flower and bear fruit in human meeting.
Love not transcending the person but incarnate
As in his own hand given you in greeting.
***************************************
My thoughts are with you, Alan, and with your family, and with your many,
many friends to whom you gave faith, strength, healing and love.
Lucy Hartley
