A little over six years ago, Phil Deaver died. He was 72. I think of him often, still. When I do, I summon up one of the sweetest men I have even known, full of good intentions and humor. He was a great friend, loyal and caring. I can’t see and talk with the man again; but my memory can summon the times we spent together, the things he said and how he said them, and I am grateful for that. Good friends can leave their earthly selves, but their spirit stays with us and nurtures us, often in unexpected bursts, like sunshine.
I miss him. Twice I wished for him as mentor at Spalding, and twice my wish was granted. Those were the most productive writing seasons of my life because he insisted on new writing in each submission. He was so kind to me even while bearing down on my grammar. He also helped me find my next writing family by sending in a scholarship reference to the AWW at Hindman. And I attended that first year thanks to him, and then I went many times after. He made a huge and positive difference in my life because he heard my voice and defended it in workshops at Spalding. He understood the struggles of my life and helped me become brave enough to transform those into fictional stories worthy of reading. He was always available even after I left Spalding, to read something or help with a problem in a writing project. When I heard of his illness I wept profusely and wrote him a letter of gratitude for all he had helped me overcome. I didn’t know if at that point in his illness if he’d even be able to read it, but his family did read it to him and his son contacted me. I am glad you have honored his life with your words here. I miss Phil. When I remember him in Louisville , one of the best images imprinted in my mind is of you and Roy H. flanking him on either side heading up and down the sidewalks heading to and from classes or to the next meal usually talking and laughing and so glad to be together. In the spring there were showers followed by clean sunlight and every plant was blossoming and all the streets were shining. In the fall the light was golden and so were leaves on the trees. And moving through our midst were always the three of you, a constant, a powerhouse of the best writers. …yes, he is still very much with us who remember.
I believe this as well, that we keep people (and pets) with us by remembering them. Such a vivid picture you've painted of this man. I feel I've met him and will certainly hint up his writing.
You’ve brought Phil back to us, Richard. Thank you. He was a colleague and a friend and his death was a great loss for the literary community. He had flaws, as we all do, which made him even more human. I’m glad you forged such a close friendship. Thanks for this tribute.
He was a special mentor to me, and I have never forgotten his kindness. He responded instantly to an email when I mentioned something difficult in my life. He was a warrior and an ally in helping me with the first piece I ever published. He made me feel I could do it and I did. Thank you for this beautiful piece. I miss him and remember him fondly.
Having Phil Deaver as a teacher, mentor, and friend, at Rollins College and later at Spalding University, quite simply changed my life for the better. He made me believe I could be a writer, and I lay the courage to publish my work at his feet. Thank you for this beautiful tribute that brought back so many memories of his gentle, kind encouragement. I am glad you and I were privileged to know him.
Thanks, Darlyn. He was a gem. Did you know there's a new book out about him? Written by a childhood friend, titled, One Dark Barked, the Other Howled. I haven't read it, so have no idea if it's good or not.
I read that book in manuscript form, and do not recommend it. The author, with whom Phil had a lifelong love/hate relationship, is very cruel to both Phil's ex-wife Susan and to Phil's memory. There's a reason he waited until after Phil's death to publish it, and I begged Forrester not to do so.
What a lovely tribute for a lovely man. He was unfailingly supportive both to me and my work but also our MFA alumni association. Every residency he would find me and talk about it, asking how he could help. I never had the opportunity to work with him as a mentor but was in his first workshop at Spalding. I have pulled Silent Retreats back down from my bookshelf to read again. Thank you for reminding us about him in such a wonderful way. I always enjoy your pieces here but this is my favorite, so far. Thank you for your kind and eloquent way of bringing him back to us. Although I treasure my Spalding education, it was you, Phil, and countless others who made my time there a magical experience that I reflect upon often and gratefully.
A stirring and powerful remembrance of your friend, a man I met several times and enjoyed chatting with, but with whom I never had a working relationship.
Thanks, as always, for sharing. I hope and trust that you are well.
Such a loving description of a sweet soul. I loved listening to him read. At my graduation dinner, you, Bob Finch, and Phil sat with John and me and talked about baseball. Although John and I have no interest in that sport, it was fun to listen to you three buddies. May Phil rest in peace.
A very inspiring piece, Richard. You obviously put the focus on how lucky you feel to have had Phil in your life but what also comes through is that he was fortunate to have someone of your character as a close friend.
Lovely essay, Richard. You make me sad I never met him, my loss, but this just shows how powerful the piece is. Talking about Catholic guilt reminded me of this (I don't know who said it or where I first heard it): Catholics feel guilt for what they've done; Jews feel guilt about what they haven't done. And for some of us, who experience both--companions that, unfortunately, follow us throughout our lives--experience both, often at the same time. For us, I'm afraid, many of them happen to be "artists," there is no escape. And maybe that's why we create. Thanks for sharing this, my friend.
I miss him. Twice I wished for him as mentor at Spalding, and twice my wish was granted. Those were the most productive writing seasons of my life because he insisted on new writing in each submission. He was so kind to me even while bearing down on my grammar. He also helped me find my next writing family by sending in a scholarship reference to the AWW at Hindman. And I attended that first year thanks to him, and then I went many times after. He made a huge and positive difference in my life because he heard my voice and defended it in workshops at Spalding. He understood the struggles of my life and helped me become brave enough to transform those into fictional stories worthy of reading. He was always available even after I left Spalding, to read something or help with a problem in a writing project. When I heard of his illness I wept profusely and wrote him a letter of gratitude for all he had helped me overcome. I didn’t know if at that point in his illness if he’d even be able to read it, but his family did read it to him and his son contacted me. I am glad you have honored his life with your words here. I miss Phil. When I remember him in Louisville , one of the best images imprinted in my mind is of you and Roy H. flanking him on either side heading up and down the sidewalks heading to and from classes or to the next meal usually talking and laughing and so glad to be together. In the spring there were showers followed by clean sunlight and every plant was blossoming and all the streets were shining. In the fall the light was golden and so were leaves on the trees. And moving through our midst were always the three of you, a constant, a powerhouse of the best writers. …yes, he is still very much with us who remember.
Cynthia, this is as lovely a tribute as I have ever read about him.
I believe this as well, that we keep people (and pets) with us by remembering them. Such a vivid picture you've painted of this man. I feel I've met him and will certainly hint up his writing.
Wonderful tribute.
You’ve brought Phil back to us, Richard. Thank you. He was a colleague and a friend and his death was a great loss for the literary community. He had flaws, as we all do, which made him even more human. I’m glad you forged such a close friendship. Thanks for this tribute.
I always feel better and luckier when I remember him, Ellie.
He was a special mentor to me, and I have never forgotten his kindness. He responded instantly to an email when I mentioned something difficult in my life. He was a warrior and an ally in helping me with the first piece I ever published. He made me feel I could do it and I did. Thank you for this beautiful piece. I miss him and remember him fondly.
Some people shine, don't they?
Having Phil Deaver as a teacher, mentor, and friend, at Rollins College and later at Spalding University, quite simply changed my life for the better. He made me believe I could be a writer, and I lay the courage to publish my work at his feet. Thank you for this beautiful tribute that brought back so many memories of his gentle, kind encouragement. I am glad you and I were privileged to know him.
Thanks, Darlyn. He was a gem. Did you know there's a new book out about him? Written by a childhood friend, titled, One Dark Barked, the Other Howled. I haven't read it, so have no idea if it's good or not.
Make that "One Dog Barked, the Other Howled."
I read that book in manuscript form, and do not recommend it. The author, with whom Phil had a lifelong love/hate relationship, is very cruel to both Phil's ex-wife Susan and to Phil's memory. There's a reason he waited until after Phil's death to publish it, and I begged Forrester not to do so.
That's so sad. Why would anyone devote so much time to something so negative? Well, Phil's good deeds and spirit will outshine anything so perfidious.
What a lovely tribute for a lovely man. He was unfailingly supportive both to me and my work but also our MFA alumni association. Every residency he would find me and talk about it, asking how he could help. I never had the opportunity to work with him as a mentor but was in his first workshop at Spalding. I have pulled Silent Retreats back down from my bookshelf to read again. Thank you for reminding us about him in such a wonderful way. I always enjoy your pieces here but this is my favorite, so far. Thank you for your kind and eloquent way of bringing him back to us. Although I treasure my Spalding education, it was you, Phil, and countless others who made my time there a magical experience that I reflect upon often and gratefully.
Terry, I'm so glad you liked the piece. if Spalding hasn't given you a medal or a statue yet, something's wrong with the world.
Wow, Richard (Ricardo). This is so powerful and dear and true. Thank you. Love, Jody
He wrote it, in a way.
Yes, I completely understand what you mean.
A stirring and powerful remembrance of your friend, a man I met several times and enjoyed chatting with, but with whom I never had a working relationship.
Thanks, as always, for sharing. I hope and trust that you are well.
Thanks, Brian. He was a gem.
Such a loving description of a sweet soul. I loved listening to him read. At my graduation dinner, you, Bob Finch, and Phil sat with John and me and talked about baseball. Although John and I have no interest in that sport, it was fun to listen to you three buddies. May Phil rest in peace.
Isn't it a sweet thing to remember a lovely person?
A very inspiring piece, Richard. You obviously put the focus on how lucky you feel to have had Phil in your life but what also comes through is that he was fortunate to have someone of your character as a close friend.
Thanks, Olivier. We were alike in having so many insecurities. But I'm not being falsely modest here when I say I was the fortunate one.
Lovely essay, Richard. You make me sad I never met him, my loss, but this just shows how powerful the piece is. Talking about Catholic guilt reminded me of this (I don't know who said it or where I first heard it): Catholics feel guilt for what they've done; Jews feel guilt about what they haven't done. And for some of us, who experience both--companions that, unfortunately, follow us throughout our lives--experience both, often at the same time. For us, I'm afraid, many of them happen to be "artists," there is no escape. And maybe that's why we create. Thanks for sharing this, my friend.
Thank you, Charles. I'm always encouraged by what you write. Guilt! It's so creative!
Thanks for sharing this affectionate recollection of a friend.
Thanks, Laura!
Lovely reminiscence. May his memory be a blessing to all those whose lives he touched.
It is!