Remembering Dad's dear Friend John Macoubrie

John Macoubrie was a good, good friend of my Dad's. They spent many evenings sipping bourbon and reciting their favorite poets. They were each well read in their own way. My dad fit in his visits with John in between working at the railroad as a clerk for the Great Northern and teaching English at The Minneapolis College of Art and Design.
Despite John's great intellect and formidable skills as a poet he worked menial jobs, often as a dishwasher. He published a few poems in his lifetime and died an untimely death of cancer, just a short while before my dad retired from both of his jobs. The irony was that he finally would have had more time to spend with John, but he was gone...and deeply missed.
I still remember the smell of John's pipe tobacco as he sat in our living room discoursing with Dad. Often he stayed so late that he missed the last bus home. We would come downstairs to find him sleeping on the couch, still wearing his inimical wool tweed coat.
John was like an uncle to the rest of the family. He was gentle and supportive of our inner gifts.
We miss him very much.
There are many, many stories of John from his Dinkytown days. That place just doesn't seem the same, now that he is gone....Tales of him biking down 14th avenue with a lit pipe in his pocket, billowing smoke as he rode by...

So, this piece of paper just appeared on the coffee table. I copy it out for you now.

Another good friend died of cancer: John Macoubrie. I wrote this for a memorial reading. But I read only his poems and poems he knew by memory.

Ladies and Gentlemen
It was not class or education--
and I'm not sentimental, blind, or senile--
There once lived people who had resolve,
Modesty, openness, and devotion;
Who did more than they promised and said less:
Soft-voiced, humorous ladies and gentlemen.
So you call them antique and obstinate?
Yes, I know their weaknesses.
They lectured for long moments and peddled
For short times the hysteria's of their day.
But they knew that honor and courage
Are the virtues that carry on after
Justice and reason are powerless.

James C. White