Ken Kesey
I used to see him quite often, whiskey glass in hand at the Vet's club—the cheapest place to drink in Eugene, Oregon, in the early '80s. Now he's toasting beers with the "Holy Goof" who used to drive that rainbow bus & our world far less merry.
I only met him once at a lit party after he read at the university.
Just as he left he turned & said to his wife:
"Look at that man's hands!"
Then to me:
"Were you a wrestler?"
"Yes, I was."
"I knew it," he said. Then he was gone.
Sometimes a Great Notion changed an historian into an aspiring writer. I never got to thank him. by an autumn river I thank him now. it all goes too fast. Even magic buses rust & Holy Goofs and Merry Pranksters move on.
Coda:
While I was living in Eugene an irresponsible young reporter printed a front page story implying that Kesey was under strong suspicion of being part of a major cocaine ring. The story was all innuendo & unnamed sources. Ken made his own placard and marched all day back & forth in front of The Register Guard. Soon, thereafter, perhaps even the next day, a reporter was out of work and an embarrassed newspaper printed a front page apology including photo of Ken and his placard. Even pranksters have their limits & this one will be missed.
