Posts Tagged ‘Albany’

Rest In Peace, Richard


18 Aug

classical-richard

Classical Richard

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ALBANY, GA—Submitted by Tom Hedrick

Richard Handley Waller artist, poet, and lover of music.

"What if you had been a child put to work in a cotton field near Roanoke, AL, and ten years later you found yourself in a room with the Emperor of China? It happened to me, but I didn't have the slightest idea who the man was."

This was the lead sentence to the autobiography Richard Waller was working on before his death. It also reflects on the extraordinarily interesting life he led.

Richard Handley Waller, 81, of Albany, GA, died of heart failure August 8 at Phoebe Putney Hospital, after a long illness. The body will be cremated as per Mr. Waller's express wishes. He will be interred in Roanoke, AL, next to his beloved Mother, Father and Brother; Ethel George Waller Hedrick, Handley Saunders Waller and Thomas Eugene Waller. Mathews Funeral Home in Albany, GA is in charge of the arrangements. A graveside memorial service will be held at 1 p.m. (CST), Saturday, August 16, 2008, at Cedarwood Cemetery in Roanoke, AL. In lieu of flowers, the family requests that donations be made to the Albany Symphony in memory of Richard Handley Waller.

Mr. Waller was born in Roanoke, AL, grew up in Newnan, GA, and served in the U.S. Army in Manila and Tokyo in Gen. Douglas MacArthur's Headquarters. While he was in the service, his family moved to Albany, GA. In 1954, he received a BS degree from the School of General Studies of Columbia University in the City of New York, where he lived for twenty years. He returned to Georgia in 1970 and was retired from Lawyers Title Insurance Corporation. He made his home in Albany for over thirty years and was well known in the community.

Mr. Waller was a world traveler and enjoyed the art and architecture of the many countries he visited. He enjoyed his retirement in Albany and was a member and past president of the Georgia Artists Guild; a staunch supporter of the Albany Symphony; and a member of the Albany Writers Club. A talented writer who was not afraid to express his opinion on matters he cared about, Mr. Waller also often injected humor in his editorials and poems. Many will remember his letters to the editor in The Albany Herald's "Squawk Box" and The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

Also a talented poet, he was the author of two books: Beethoven's Brain and Other Poems, which was used as part of the ticket sales for the Newport Music Festival in Newport, RI in 1995 and what he considered his highest achievement; and The Famous God Said Sonnets. He also composed music and lyrics; played the violin and the guitar. Always creative, he won awards as a talented painter and photographer.

Mr. Waller had an inquisitive mind, and was constantly reading and studying music, art, writing, religion, and, in later years, mastered the computer. He liked to point out that on his paternal great-grandfather's gravestone is carved these words that also describe his life: "He did what he could." His wit and his e-mails will be sorely missed by his family and many friends. He loved to share his knowledge with all.

He was born a Baptist, but died a Universalist—one who believes that salvation is extended to all mankind. A life-long bachelor, he is survived by cousins on both sides of his family, Wallers and Georges, and by many nieces and nephews of his step-family, the Hedricks of Albany and Atlanta—some loved, some unloved; and, the feeling was mutual. He is also survived by his beloved cat, Prunella.

Mathews Funeral Home
Albany 229/435-xxxx

Love And Time Installments As Life Reminds Us Of Itself Again


26 Jun

skirmish

Time Installments

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At 9:55 AM -0400 6/26/01, Sue Hedrick wrote:

Dear Richard,

I really feel bad now.

Gabriel came home last night after being away a week. First he drove to Monticello, GA to pick up his brother Allan, then the both of them drove to Chicago—where their mother, Peggy, who is studying for her doctorate in psychology is at the Adler School—to visit her before driving back here, arriving last night. I told Gabriel of Mama Ethel's passing over the phone before I went home last evening. Then, when I arrived home, he said there were several e-mails from you starting on the 20th and ending with the funeral arrangements...I am so sorry that I did not check his e-mail over the time he was gone. I actually had thought about doing so, but didn't, thinking that is sort of like opening someone's US mail.

Another twist to this saga is that Gabriel had actually talked about going to Albany to visit you and Mama Ethel last week after picking up his brother in Monticello, GA. But, she may have been to ill to see them at that time.

The point of all this is to let you know I do feel terrible about this missed opportunity to stand by you in this event. If I had read those e-mails on Saturday, I would have been there.

Love,

Sue Hedrick

Wow. My world too is rocked as life reminds us of itself again and again.

Love and time installments,

Gabriel

Quick Quips From Planet Zilch


05 Jul

rat-boy

Rat Boy

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Date: Mon Jul 5, 1999 11:43:37 AM

Hello everyone! Here's that picture I think you are looking for. It was left in the scanner. Did y'all lose the whole batch, or just that one picture? I have TIFFs and JPEGs of each of the ones we borrowed. The remainder should be in your stack.

They predict 102 degrees today. But I whistled out there this morning; cleaned up some alley weeds & trash, and then came in and bucked up to the task of removing a baby rat carcass from a trap beneath the kitchen sink. It had three days of decomposition stink under its neck, pewey, and was in no mood to argue his removal. A second trap was void of peanut butter, and had also been jarred. Into a plastic sack went the dead baby. I baited and reset the two, left the third alone, and now must call the exterminator whom I reached last night in person sometime after 8 PM when I dicovered the rotting critter as he agreed to this morning's appointment. I called again this morning only to reach his answering machine which he's never answered. Sigh.

With lots of ungenerated stink in the house still to come I did the job myself, saved myself $35, and feel pretty good about overcoming my fears. I don't think I could have dealt with a large rat. Just call this a quick quip from Planet Zilch...

Gabriel

She Called But Crashed


05 Apr

gabe-sue

Gabriel & Sue

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Originally posted on Sat Apr 05 08:22:39 1997

Yep, from the Albany Public Library on her cellular. Yesterday. Place was packed with Power Macs, with a minority of Wintels, which of course colored me pink with passion as I tried to waddle her through the surf. It's amazing how Sue maintains this mental block about the Internet, can't quite get her mind around it, but because I know what I know, my own level of expertise far outstripping what little she does know, it makes some sort of weird GT-BS sense. We tend to rush into each other's void. I still prefer to let her troubleshoot my OS when there's trouble but in the last few months of fixes, managing very nearly on my own, I've regained a confidence I lost to boredom even in that area, although Sue usually can instantly answer a system question and she still has the edge in local area networking savvy, while I grunt at such mundane interruptions to my more natural work.

Excited by the prospects of testing for speed and resolution differences between the Albany machine and iMote, I settled in to be wowed by praise and prattle. Unfortunately, BS suffered Netscape 2.0 problems in a big way viewing my pages. Crash. Crash. Crash. Crashed. Javascript resistence. Plus she had trouble typing in the proper GEOCITIES URL, but surely that was her own failing, although she claimed there were no typos. That must have been frustrating, even humiliating had I been sitting in her seat. She had taken her Aunt Lou and Richard Waller, an octogenarian and a septengenarian, respectively, to the library to show them what I did, and wouldn't you know the Internet with its embarrassing glitches would show its ugly side...

She could quickly and maniacally transform into a mankiller on a nickel, in a wildcat hustle, clawing flesh and sheetrock leaving clumps of DNA all over any later testimony, especially when drinking past her stopping point. But on this sunny May afternoon we were merely romping through the city without restraints or vile poisons in our blood, enjoying ourselves at an Internet café on the softer side of rock and roll. I felt the spirit of Blumstein enter me as I said to myself, “Dammit, I felt like a rock star showing off my designs, the blueprint of my future victories over self-loathing. Thanks for noticing, you flatter me you clever girl.”
They were finally able to view the Peachmyth page with the Hedrick partial family photo. Aunt Lou was not in the picture, although Richard and I were. Aunt Lou tried out some ancient wit by proclaiming that the women in the picture looked better than the men, but who would ever declare otherwise? Not me with my upstart motto of "Give me women or give me blindness..."

When Sue was finally successful in loading a page, it was slow, slow, slow. My loads beat hers by a factor of four if not greater. She couldn't give me any modem or CPU details. Her first machine froze, so she moved to another. The second machine dazzled her with reload speed after each crash, but with a skeletal OS framework, there was no surprise there. I didn't even bother trying to get her to check the Navigator memory cache; the damn thing was crashing on that Lily Artwatcher page, a very simple, and hardly graphically burdened upload. I had her try to mail me from a Netscape/iMote link, but the library has no POP3 service, so THAT failed. All in all, a nightmare on Elm Street (is that the street the library is on???). Nope, a quick check. It's on Pine Street. Close but no cigar. Not quite the bohemian hip we managed at New York City's@Café last May with Jennifer watching and nodding favorably, carrying on in her own words "that my online work was sort of like rock stardom..." Always seductive, but dangerously frosty under certain conditions, Jennifer could spell the most charming kindness and come off as the most untethered supportive girl a man could ever want to know when she wanted, and she didn't even have to be chasing something at the moment, but I never doubted her sense of entitlement in the bloodsport of our age—star fucking. She could quickly and maniacally transform into a mankiller on a nickel, in a wildcat hustle, clawing flesh and sheetrock leaving clumps of DNA all over any later testimony, especially when drinking past her stopping point. But on this sunny May afternoon we were merely romping through the city without restraints or vile poisons in our blood, enjoying ourselves at an Internet café on the softer side of rock and roll. I felt the spirit of Blumstein enter me as I said to myself, "Dammit, I felt like a rock star showing off my designs, the blueprint of my future victories over self-loathing. Thanks for noticing, you flatter me you clever girl." True however, was the dumb fact that I had passively aggressively coerced her flattery by mumbling something to the effect that "Well, it's not as glamorous as being in a band, but I do enjoy creating pages..."

On the beachhead, check out the freshly ported Literary Chip pages, slighted overhauled from the GeoCities look. You can access them from the main page (the second one) by clicking on the Lily Artwatcher link located just under the word—slaphappy. Sue grew up in the house in which her parents, Wilma & Dermot still own and reside a single block off the old Albany family-named Slappy Drive, Albany's most notable commercial avenue? Hence, slaphappy.

GT

Nothing But A Creeping Annoyance Was Lost


21 Jul

word

There's A Word For That

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Date: Sun Jul 21, 1996 1:11:28 AM

Brave sister—Steve is back in the Dollhouse fold, safely tucked in righteously as an original DH cast member after we kissed and made up, laughing and muddling thru blanket apologies, a case of beer, a few games of "perquacky" and juicy cat calls from the next wave of memory hounds setting up camp. Licking the Pussy, Nickel Ball, and Perquackey stalk our energies for reasons neither of us can quite make the case. Sue should telephone early Sunday morning after the cruiseship docks at 8:30 in Miami, a mere seven hours away—right before she gears up to cross the long Floridian peninsula depositing her Aunt Lou back in Albany GA, where Sue will fold into the lives of her shiny folks for a few days. The well-publicized whore in a box scenario was scuttled by default. Mouse failed to call at midnight after getting off work. Indifference had already settled over us like a rude collapsing smog, so nothing but a creeping annoyance was lost.

How was Mum & Auntie's visit? Did you make it to the Ontario waterworks? Today was a beautifully crisp sunny visitation. I signed a neighbor's petition in his race to get on the ballot for the DC School Board. I told him I din't speak the language of public schools. I wanted the Feds out of schools, and perhaps give schooling over to capital and its minions. Ha! The candidate scoffed at my suggestion like any good Republican trapped in an ultra-liberal jurisdiction would. The government sugar daddy model is the only configuration these major parties know, especially in dealing with the poor and the stupid and the college educated who need money for every project a new brood can think up. Watch your toes, professors...

Yep, keep 'em poor and stupid. Now that's a job for those who like motorcycles, trap doors, and house warming blessings in the name of Jesus Christ without knowing the Nazarene was a Jew down to his dying breath, so I want to be one too, leafy spinach & spam balls, and country music exercise videos. I'm sure there's a word for that. Despite the position of the mid-day sun in the Eastern sky where you sit to study strange behaviors of people still moved by ordinary magic, I can be such an ass sometimes. I wanna go with...

Good luck, Wayne Curtin! You'll need it...

GT

S A M P L E X

"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""


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