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| Walter Malloy Buckner, Jr. (1967-2013) |
(The following is to be read at Walter’s remembrance ceremony at The Retreat, April 13th, 2013 in Wayzata, MN on behalf of Jeremy Nerenberg)....>>>>
Greetings from Toronto, Canada. My name is Jeremy Nerenberg.
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| The Blogger |
It pains me greatly to say that due to circumstances beyond
my control – and I mean that quite literally – I cannot be here in person for
my brother Walter.
I can explain. You
see, the United States Department of Homeland Security deported me to Canada in
2010 – yes, I’m serious. As a Canadian
citizen living in the U.S. since 1978, I ran into some trouble with the law
several years ago. And, ultimately, due
to my inability to stay sober and play by the rules, I was not-so-politely
removed from the U.S. and dropped off in the city of my birth, Toronto, where I
sit today. I had many, many chances to
get my act together and avoid such a drastic consequence.
There is only one other person I know who is capable of
irritating someone to such an extreme extent – someone so gifted in his
capacity to annoy, aggravate, infuriate and exasperate other human beings to
the point of insanity…
I first met Walter Buckner six years ago, right here at The
Retreat. I had just flown in from Aspen,
Colorado (where I was living at the time) in yet another attempt to ‘get
sober.’ I had been here for about a week
at the time, when some friends of another Retreat guest came out here to
Wayzata from St. Paul to visit their comrade.
I noticed one of these guys in some designer sunglasses, smoking a
cigarette and talking n on his cellphone off in a corner of the courtyard by
himself. He was brought over and
introduced to me as it was known that I grew up in Dallas, Texas, and
apparently this guy had also grown up in Dallas.
Walter and I quickly learned that we had actually grown up
just a few miles from each other in Dallas.
But since Walter was a few years older than me and we went to different
schools, our paths never crossed until that day – in Minnesota of all
places. Walter had arrived here many
years earlier of course in an attempt to deal with his own issues, while I was
still years away from the darker part of my life.
I ended up staying on in St. Paul after my thirty days here
at The Retreat. As fate would have it, I
moved into a sober house on Lincoln Drive (or Avenue, I don’t remember), and
Walter was one of my new housemates. I
quickly learned that this guy was a monumental ‘piece of work.’ Sarcastic, obnoxious, unbelievably direct and
way too cool for his own good. He was
impossibly difficult, insufferable, intolerable and insane. I absolutely loved it. We were soon as close as only brothers-in-arms
can be.
We developed an unbreakable bond, one like only soldiers
united against a common foe can experience.
Many of you in this room know what I’m talking about. It’s a magical byproduct of this program –
this fellowship – this wonderful, colorful, beautiful, tragic, painful world of
recovery.
Even though I only knew Walter for six years, and even though
we only lived in the same city together for two years, I consider Walter to be
one of the closest friends I’ve ever had at any time in my life. You see, Walter was sober the entire time I
lived in Minnesota. I, on the other hand, continued down a path
of periodic relapse, trouble, madness and chaos.
Walter had my back the entire time. When others turned away from me, Walter
sought me out and made sure I was okay.
He would not leave my side as I struggled.
For much of my time in St. Paul, I too was sober, and it was
during that period when we were both healthy at the same time, that I cherish
most with Walter. We were very much
alike – we had the same tastes in music, clothing, and many, many other of the
finer things in life that two ex-rich kids from Dallas, Texas acquire a taste
for. We argued about everything and
agreed on everything at the same time. I
saw myself in Walter and he saw himself in me.
We were both neurotic as hell and we bickered at each other like an old
married couple.
And neither one of us gave a shit about what anyone else
thought of our mutual Southern arrogance.
Walter was a walking contradiction. No writer of fiction is creative enough to
come up with such a character. He’s
impossible to properly describe in mere words.
One must experience his presence and personality in order to get a
glimpse of such a curious creature. He
had the very rare combination of character traits that enabled him to help
someone like me – someone equally impossible.
I never had an older brother – I was the oldest in my
family. During my two years in Minnesota,
Walter was my big brother. My guardian
angel. I will not go into detail about
the many specific ways in which Walter helped me – it’s too personal and
painful to rehash in this way, in this room.
There is enough pain in this room already. Granted, I’m fairly certain there will be a
lot of laughter in this room tonight too.
My thoughts and memories of Walter over the past couple of years
generally result in me laughing out loud at the sheer absurdity of some of the
things I witnessed around Walter……actually, “absurd” isn’t a descriptive enough
word. The man was capable of evoking the
most ridiculous, preposterous, silly, outlandish, devious and totally
irrational events in any situation, at any time, regardless of location.
Walter had a profound impact on my own personality. Sometimes I’ll notice the way I’m moving or
the way I’m talking or even the way I present myself, and I’ll realize that
part of my personal style and disposition represents the special relationship I
had with Walter Buckner.
I am shaken to the core by the circumstances surrounding
Walter’s untimely passing. Walter was at his best when I was at my worst, and I
will always regret that I could not be there for him when he slipped back into
the darkness of addiction. But no distance
can separate his heart from mine. And no
matters of mere mortality can break the bond between our two souls.
Walter watched out for me.
He helped me when I could not help myself. He was a soul rebel. A modern-day folk
hero. I miss him terribly.
Bob Dylan said “A man is a success if he wakes up in the
morning and goes to bed at night and does what he wants in between.” Well, no-one was more successful in my eyes
than Walter Buckner.
May he find the peace he deserves and sleep softly tonight in
the knowledge that he will always be surrounded by love.
-peace/love
Jeremy
