Goodbye, My Friend: Tribute to David Shipp

March 27, 2015

Like just about everyone else, it wasn't until 8:44 p.m. PST on Wednesday the 18th that I knew anything at all about Dave’s condition. My partner Claudia and I were relaxing after dinner, watching a DVD, when Mask's email arrived. As soon as I saw the subject "Dave Shipp" I knew something serious had happened. When I began to read the text, I let out a loud gasp and Claudia said, "What's wrong?" I couldn't speak. I just handed her my iPhone. I felt like I had been sucker punched in the stomach and that my head had gotten rung like a bell, similar to what happens to cartoon characters. And while both of those sensations have now ebbed quite a bit, here I am, little more than a week later, still trying to process all that has transpired…

What I knew on that Wednesday night was that, at some point, I would be heading east. I just did not know when. The first email said that David "has weeks or a month or so to live," so I began to think about when I could go. Then an email arrived on the 21st saying "come very soon and visit with him," and that "next weekend is probably not good." So I immediately got on my computer and bought a plane ticket that would have me taking a red-eye to Richmond on the evening of Sunday the 22nd.

As luck would have it, on Sunday afternoon I had plans to attend a memorial celebration in San Francisco for Sam Andrew, a guitarist in Janis Joplin's band Big Brother and the Holding Company. Sam died about a month ago, and this was a huge event with bands playing and my good friend John Cooke doing a reading from his new book, "On the Road With Janis Joplin" (John was her road manager for many years before Janis died). John also showed a short film that included marvelous footage of the band during its heyday. This was a very enjoyable affair, celebrating the life of a much-admired and loved musician. Yet after this event, I knew that I was headed towards a much sadder situation...

I arrived in Richmond at 9 a.m. on Monday morning, and I was greeted by another friend that lives in the city who does not know Dave. He took me to his home, and from there I called over to Dave’s house. Rob offered to come and get me, so I went over to the house by 11:30, where I was greeted by Rose, Dave's longtime friend Tom McNichol (who is from State College), and other local friends of Dave's. Rob and Rose had arrived from Georgia, I believe, on Friday the 20th, to take over care duties from Tom, who had been there for a week. Dave's neighbor friend Charlotte came over later, and she, too, had been very involved in taking care of Dave.

Before long I was invited to go up the stairs to visit with Dave, who was sitting on his bed with a table in front of him where he could lay his head down to rest. He was in such pain that he could not lie down at all. When I first walked into the room, Rose told him, "Larry's here, from San Francisco!" Dave, looking very frail and gaunt after having lost quite a bit of weight (it's not like he had any to lose to begin with), stood up briefly and said, "I don't know anyone named Larry!" For a second or two, I truly felt that he did not know who I was. But even during his darkest hours, the Shipp sense of humor that we knew all too well was still there, despite the condition he was in. I sat and talked with him for about 20 minutes, hugging and rubbing his boney back. His head would go up and down from the pillow at times, and he would doze for a bit, because he was on medication to relieve the pain. Knowing that I would be around for a while, I then left the room so that others could visit with him. Yet it was with a great sense of relief that I had come as soon as I did, as I feared that by the time that I arrived that he might be too far gone. I knew that he was very happy to see me, and words cannot aptly describe my feelings towards him...

I went back downstairs and met some of Dave’s local friends – Julie, Ken and Newton – and before long I felt like I was talking with kindred spirits. If these were friends of Dave's, I was thinking, they were also soon to become friends of mine. Knowing that I had recently arrived on the red-eye and that I was carless, they insisted that I join them for lunch at a nearby pub called O'Toole's, and it was a really good time. We all got to share stories about Dave, and in some ways I felt like I was talking with people that I had known for many years.

I went back to Dave’s house around 3 p.m., where others had arrived. Dave’s brother Joe and his wife Judy drove up from Raleigh and it was the first time that I – and probably most others – had ever met a sibling of Dave’s. There is a slight resemblance in some of the facial features, as well as with some body movements. It was really good to meet Dave’s closest relative. He has two much older sisters that could not make the journey to see him, so at least there was one family member there to say goodbye to the youngest of the four Shipp siblings.

There were also more coworkers from VCU, all of whom were quite shocked and saddened by the news of Dave’s deteriorating health. I got a ride back to the place I was staying with a very nice work mate named Carol, whose family is from Columbia. While I was physically and emotionally spent from having taken the red-eye and being with our dear friend Dave, I went to bed on Monday night thoroughly exhausted, yet at the same time extremely glad, that I had come to Richmond as fast as I could.

On Tuesday morning I went back over to the house by 10:30 and was pleased to see that Steve Cohen had arrived already. He made the trip down from State College. Steve, Dave and I all met while driving buses for Centre Line in the college town. I was hired two weeks before Steve, and David came on board a few months later. We have all been good friends since 1977. When I go back to State College in the summer for Arts Fest I stay with Steve and his lovely wife Leslie, while Dave would usually drive up and stay with Rob and Rose, who he first met and befriended in, I believe, 1973.

Also, Dave’s friend Keith Wilson was there, and he is someone that Dave had become friends with many years ago in State College, but who has been living in Guatemala for the past 12 years. Keith flew in as soon as he could, and he planned on being there at the house until the end, along with Rob and Rose.

A little later in the morning Richard Lotstein arrived from Chapel Hill, NC, and he is another good friend from the same era in State College. It was great to see him again, albeit under very sad circumstances. When Richard went up to see Dave, he was greeted at first with more Shipp humor, as Dave said, "Oh, not Rich Lotstein!” Steve, Richard and I each took turns going up to visit with Dave as well as helping out in whatever small way we could. Both Richard and Steve stayed for a few hours before saying goodbye to their friend and getting back on the road for what, I am sure, were long drives in more ways than one…

I stayed around the house all afternoon, as there were other friends of Dave’s that came by to say their goodbyes. At one point Rose and I opened up some cards that had arrived in the mail, and Dave knew who everyone was and he seemed touched that so many people cared about him. But then in the early evening, around 7 p.m., it was my turn to make the last slow climb up the stairs to say my farewell. This was one of the hardest things that I have ever had to do. I have had parents die, as well as cousins and other elderly relatives, but Dave was the first of my personal friends to be making his way to whatever lies beyond. I went in and sat with him. Rob was also in the room with us. In just one day Dave seemed to have deteriorated quite a bit, yet he was trying to hold on at least another day until Eunjin arrived from Korea. He could no longer stand up on his own, he was less responsive, and he was not breathing very easily. He also was not eating anything, and it was all that Rob, Rose and Keith could do to get him to take some sips of water. I sat there and put my arm around him while rubbing his left arm. I told him that I had to be going, and thanked him for being such a great friend. I said that I was going to miss him dearly, and that I loved him, and he lifted up his head, wrapped his arm around me, and said, “I love you too, man. Thanks so much for being here.”

And then I made the last descent down his stairs, said goodbye to Rose, and walked out the door in a daze of emotions before meeting my ride on the street.

I hardly remember the 12-minute drive back to where I was staying. Fortunately the Uber driver had a GPS unit to guide us, as I could not have told him which way to go. I was feeling a mix of emotions, deep sadness and a sense of loss, and yet I was also very happy that I had made the trip to Richmond to be able to spend some final hours with, and say goodbye to, our friend Dave.

On Wednesday morning I rode the Amtrak train to Philly in order to visit with one of my ailing brothers, who is having his own issues with cancer. From what I am told, Dave’s sweetie Eunjin arrived late Wednesday afternoon from Korea, and Dave began to relax as soon as he heard her voice. The remaining hours of Dave’s life were spent together with Eunjin, until he passed at 4:01 a.m. on Thursday the 26th. At least he is now at peace and, mercifully, finally out of pain.

All of our lives have been enriched by knowing Dave Shipp, and it was amazing to see, in the short time that I was there, how many loving friends of various nationalities he had from the college days, bicycling, teaching at VCU, and other phases of his life. We should all be so lucky to have so many friends as well as such caring loved ones such as Tom, Rob, Rose, Charlotte and Keith, who were willing to drop everything they were doing in order to go and make sure that Dave had the best care he could ever get in his final days. To be able to go out on own terms, in our own home, with loving and close friends like these around to help us on our way, is something that we should all hope and wish for.

In closing, here are the words of singer/songwriter Karla Bonoff from her song “Goodbye My Friend”:

Goodbye my friend

I know I'll never see you again

But the time together through all the years

Will take away these tears

It's okay now

Goodbye my friend

Goodbye, indeed, my friend David Shipp…

In sadness,

Larry

PS: During the day on Tuesday, a friend of Dave’s had called and Keith answered the phone. Keith told the caller about Dave’s situation, and the friend finished his call by saying, “Tell Dave ‘O Captain! My Captain!’” whose meaning was unclear to Keith, Rose and me. So I looked it up on Google, and it turns out that is a very moving poem by Walt Whitman from 1891.