Pinch hitting for Frank Wydra is like stepping in for Babe Ruth. And I wish I could tell you that it’s just an April Fool’s switch and that Frank will be back next month, but it isn’t and for the time being he won’t. Since before Christmas Frank has been soldiering on with a great deal of pain and exhaustion. He had some surgeries and the diagnosis was pancreatic cancer, which – in his words – is nasty stuff. He wanted to keep going on his column just as always but has come to feel that he cannot do it justice as he undergoes treatment, including chemo. That’s pretty typical Frank…worried that he can’t do it justice. Anyone who knows Flamingo Frank can think of better justice than what he’s contending with, but he doesn’t want me to go there and I’m honor bound to stick to the script.
I can tell you that his plan was to do one last session of the Gonquin in which he conveyed the pleasure his association with all the posters on StorytellersUnplugged has brought him. He thanks you one and all. You’ll have to forgive my imperfect rendering if this list is incomplete, but he mentioned a number of people who have meant so much to this site and in his personal correspondence on the blog and in e-mails. David Wilson, John Skipp, Richard Steinberg, Janet Berliner and Robert Jones come to mind at the moment.
Maybe a couple of times in my life I’ve met someone like Frank who became an instant brother. We recognized something – a spirit of open-mindedness, for lack of a better phrase – that put us into many adventures together, whether it was in the drawing room atmosphere of The Society of the Black Bull or on a shark-infested remote beach in the Bahamas one island away from where they filmed “Pirates of the Caribbean.” Flamingo Frank all but kidnapped me and forced me out of my shell to drive together to Rhode Island when my novel THE MARTYRING was a finalist for Best Novel at World Fantasy Con. No one sets a better table, throws a better party, or provides a more inspiring evening by the fire than the master host Frank Wydra. Of course, he merely gets credit for what his wife does. Karen Wydra, BTW, is one of America’s preeminent painters, and it is in her shadow that our beloved compatriot labors on his novels and short stories. And columns. The Gonquin table is one of those ready-made, obvious formats it took a genius to recognize and a double genius to pull off with such exacting research, transcendent imagination, grounded philosophy, and spot-on pastiches.
I thought to present my stand-in role here in the Gonquin tradition, but that would be a travesty even if it somehow came off a fraction as good as what you’re used to seeing here. I can tell you that Frank is not one to look backwards and his plan for this month’s column faced his challenges without flinching. He is not a quitter, and he is very savvy about technology and progressive trials in medicine in particular, but he is also pragmatic about covering the bases. Since he has always been the only living person at the Gonquin, it was his thought (“morbid thought,” he called it with a hint of apology) to cross over and become one of the others much as Father Damien on Molokai once acknowledged that he, too, was a leper. As I said, he was keenly aware that this would have to be nuanced in the tradition of the Gonquin to avoid morbidity, and in his present state of exhaustion as he undergoes treatment he wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to do that.
Notwithstanding the daunting honor I now have of filling in for him, I’m glad he didn’t write that column. Even though I’m grateful that Frank faces all possible realities head-on, the bond between us is constructed of what I cited above: a spirit of open-mindedness, a receptivity which allows all things to succeed. Much better to just leave the Gonquin in suspension. That said, Frank has recently written this: “So it be understood, I’ve had a great life and have no regrets. I may get a little more time, but in the scope of things, my bank account is full. For that I have all the wonderful people who I have known and who have supported me to thank. They are legion.” You make everyone’s bank account full, Flamingo.
For the time being, the Gonquin table is adjourned…
– Thomas “Sully” Sullivan
10 Comments, Comment or Ping
Rick Steinberg
Dearest Frank, the words escape me; a rare moment in my life. All but these:
Believe! Oh, dear spirit, please . . . believe!
You have pulled off the finest - and rarest - illusion of them all. You have made the world you touched (and you have touched so much of it) a better, more splendid and civillizrd (where civility is prefarable to barbarity) place to live.
Please continue to do so for much longer. The world is dark enough, without taking your light from us.
But if the Gonquin Table does finally call, raise a glass with Mary and Edgar and even Bram (who you might have to convince with something other than wine) to those of us Storytellers who still struggle on.
Struggle . . . to live up to the exampple you have set and are setting for us.
Believe, Frank. Just Believe.
The rest is silence.
Rick Steinberg, your friend and accolyte
Apr 13th, 2008
Alexandra Sokoloff
Frank, I wish you light, love, comfort and peace.
Apr 13th, 2008
Janet Berliner
Dear, Dear Frank–This is unacceptable. We need you. The first time I was told that it was unlikely, if not impossible, for me to make it, I asked for a visit from a Rabbi…and a Priest, a Monk, and one of every other faith that came to mind. Hey. Doesn’t hurt to cover all of your bases. If nothing else, it will be a good story to merge into your next Gonquin blog. I wish I could do more than send you and your family my love and my prayers. –Janet
Apr 13th, 2008
Denise Wydra
Thanks, Sully.
Apr 13th, 2008
Brian Hodge
Aww, Frank. All this comes as a deflating surprise. Here’s hoping the Round Table will convene again, and continue its sterling track record of discourse, insight, and delight. I can only second the well-wishes already extended above, and that they follow you along whatever path the coming weeks and months bring.
And you, Sully. I can’t fully imagine how tough this one must have been to write. Your line about an ‘instant brother’ … I’ve got a pair of those myself, and no other shorthand could have conveyed the depth of your bond any better, or twanged any louder chord of empathy.
Apr 13th, 2008
Sheri Wydra
Thanks Sully. Dad asked, so I have printed your words and will go read it to him.
Apr 13th, 2008
Thomas Sullivan
For those of you who may not know, Denise and Sheri (e-mails above) are two-thirds of the Wydra adult children, Tom being the third. As you can see from Sheri’s email, Flamingo Frank is keeping tabs on what is posted here. I’m just as sure that he is maintaining his buoyant demeanor as the family cheerleader. So, hey, Flamingo, just want you to know that I am dictating this with voice activation and Dragon NaturallySpeaking typed Flamenco when I said Flamingo. Flamenco Frank. Not a pretty picture. In good health or bad, I can’t picture you dancing with a rose between your teeth. And I don’t remember ever seeing Karen with open-toed shoes. But if you want to make a liar out of me, go ahead. … And yeah, Brian, instant brothers are the best kind. Ink bros — the indelible kind.
– Sully
Apr 13th, 2008
Teresa
When words fail but are all we have, what is there to say? I hope the day comes again when I can evesdrop on the wisdom of the Gonguin Table, Frank. One of my most favourite places; I look forward to my visits always.
Thank you so much, Sully, for your words today. It cannot have been easy.
Hugs to you both,
Terry
Apr 14th, 2008
Dave Wilson
I can very literally say that The Gonquin Table brought more smiles to heart and mind than any other segment of Storytellers has…from the first appearance of Edgar, Mary, Papa, and the crew, I’ve come to look forward eagerly to that conversation…been drawn in and captivated…and all of that is but an extension of the man and creative heart beneath. Be well Frank, and stay in touch…there’s always a place at MY table for you.
David
Apr 14th, 2008
Robert Jones
Thank you, Sully, for your beautiful piece about Frank. He has always had such an energetic presence that it is hard to believe he could be slowed by an illness.
His tenacity and creative genius for finding and extracting just the right words from his Gonguin-table friends and from his own constructions are objects of envy and go unmatched.. Frank’s essays about their discussions always brought his Gonquin table group vividly to life. This month, the group is quiet as its members eye one empty chair. Let’s hope that Frank will again occupy that chair and describe Papa rapping the table with his pipe or fist to emphasize a comment many, many more times.
Amalgam
Apr 15th, 2008
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