Bad Week Shaping Up...
Rough week at work, and I find out that a good friend who'd been ill for a spell has died back in Colorado.
Phil Hogue
1935-2007
Knowing you was my privilege.
Phil Hogue
1935-2007
Knowing you was my privilege.
posted by Stucco at 8:49 PM
8 Comments:
I'm sorry for your loss. You'll have to tell us about him.
Sorry to hear about your loss Stucco
Jesus, two blog friends have deaths on the same day. I'm sorry to hear this, Stucco. Take care.
The sandwich inventor?
Blessings to all affected by his passing...
Many folks who know me, have known me to talk with considerable laughter while telling "Phil Stories", and they are from a different Phil. The Phil of "Phil Story" fame was the step-father of my best friend, Don. This Phil is a man I used to work for and was a remarkable man in his own right (but less silly than the other Phil). Phil Hogue was a cowboy in the very best meanings of the term. Determined, compassionate, practical, and champion of the less fortunate. He was a good friend to those of us lucky enough to cross paths with him.
One of the things that strikes me about this Phil is that he was a great storyteller. He'd been fortunate enough to know more than a few wealthy and powerful people, and people you've never heard of. Listening to Phil, you'd be just as likely to hear about his friends who were pioneers of black rodeo, politicians, or fathers of industry. It didn't really seeem to matter to him what your station was in life, provided he thought well of you. That he took in so much in the way of stories frrom others, and was always ready to share a good story about his friends was a great thing to behold.
In the spirit of this, I'll tell a Phil (Hogue) story that I like, because it shows a miscehvious side. I was at his home once and saw an odd old poster with a torn corner. It was maybe 18" X 26" and was in Spanish, mostly red (well, faded red) and had all the aesthetic beauty of a soviet tractor propaganda piece. It had mannish women with fists held high, looking sort of angry. It said something like "together we can do it" in Spanish. Rah rah- right? Well Phil sees me looking at it and then tells me how when he was in Cuba (communist Cuba) he saw this at some little airport that he and a buddy were in, and he yanked it off the wall, and hid it in his friends luggage while no one (hopefully) was looking. Shortly thereafter, he and his buddy were stopped and needed to be inspected (again) and he was panic sticken that he'd framed his buddy due to some presumed obscure rule about damaging state property or whatever. In a cold sweat he endured the screening and only after they were in teh air, did he tell his buddy the tale. I was dying with laughter to hear him recount this tale as though he was smuggling heroin or some damned thing from a third world country, instead of some sloppy bit of screen press propaganda that likely had been printed by the ton. It was told better than if Ludlum had written it, and was such a pedestrian thing. That this tattering of "art" would find it's torn and folded way to a frame of honor at his place is in my mind a complete riot. It couldn't have been better if there was Mission Impossible music playing...
“Every human being must find his own way to cope with severe loss, and the only job of a true friend is to facilitate whatever method he chooses”
Caleb Carr
Thank you for choosing a story...Sorry you lost him kiddo..
Damn, that’s rough news. All that about “time heals all wounds” is not so true I’ve found. It’s better that way for me because the memories never fade, which in and of itself is a consolation I can live with. I hope your memories never fade.
Sorry Stucco. He sounds like good man. Thanks for the story.
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