Thank you, Allen.
You know that sense of awe you get when you watch a true master of a skill when they are totally immersed in their craft? Like watching and listening to the greatest guitarist or other musician?
Watching a master portrait or landscape artist create a picture you could step into, that you could almost hear the sounds and smell the odors in that picture?
Seeing them work as if they were a part of the tools they were wielding, seeing and hearing their creation come to life before your eyes?
That was what it was like standing in Greg's shop, watching him restore an old gun. Lathe, mill, files, grinder, saw, hammer, wrenches, screwdrivers, and vise, they all were a part of him, moving at his bidding, precision motions, nothing wasted, neither time, energy, nor materials.
He was extremely focused on the task, but still could talk about what he was doing, step-by-step, to a bystander, explaining in simple terms and clear enough to be understood, without ever losing that focus.
He was a simple and complex man, if that makes any sense. Living alone without being lonely.
I will miss him and his late night and early morning calls before and after the light has left, not forgetting his friends while working every minute unless the heat was too much.
I mourn now, and know that the loss will be less as time goes by, and look forward to seeing him again.
Ed
