Dave Mahoney

I looked everywhere for a box of old photos. I was looking for this one of Dave and me and our dates. My father took it in our living room before the prom. Dave was wearing a rented, baby blue tux with a shiny black collar. He had punky blond bangs and a beautiful, sarcastic to the knowing, smile. I guess he was about the same age as his son Max is now. I looked for that photo for about a week and then gave up. It dawned on me how fitting this was. Dave is gone and this is all part of the letting go process.

In our yearbook, Dave had written all around his picture and he started with this. "Now sometimes we get a little confused and sometimes we step on people's toes, but we do all right. You are one of the most footloose guys I have ever met, and you're one of the best." That admonishment was not your typical yearbook fare but it was pure Dave. I was/am reckless and loose where Dave was precise. Anyone could could hear that in our drumming. We made a good pair.

When the Incredible String Band released two albums at once, Dave bought one (Wee Tam) and I bought the other, (Big Huge) and we'd listen to them in each other's bedrooms. Dave's brother Bob may remember. Dave ordered tickets to Woodstock from a radio station. He was pumped. They cost a fortune and no one ever asked us for them. We headed down there with no food or sleeping bags or tents or anything. We were full of optimism. After a couple of days Dave was convinced that we were going to starve to death. Dave had to eat something on a regular basis. We missed Hendrix.

Dave was a hipster hero to us and the radio was our sacrament. We spent countless hours in his Mom's Olds. I don't remember driving as much as I remember just sitting in the driveway, listening and talking. Brad broke the padded dash playing drums on it. Dave dug the Beach Boys and picked up a California accent that he used regularly. He was California bound and I'm glad he made it. Bloomington was only halfway there.

Paul and Dave

I was in my second year of school when Dave came out to live with me. We rented a small house next to the Boy's Club. The house was in someone's backyard. It was like a fort or a shed. We came home one night and someone had broken in and stolen our stereo with Burnt Weeny Sandwich on the turntable. They left us the empty lp cover. I eventually stopped going to class. We lived on peanut butter sandwiches and Progresso Minestrone Soup. We lived together for another couple years, maybe three. Bloomington was an idyllic dead end.

Peggi and I saw McCabe and Mrs. Miller a few months back and I kept thinking of Dave. I had not seen it since first seeing it with Dave. He knew every line in that movie and tossed them off at will. When Dave dug something, it became infectious. Dave elevated eggs, toast and coffee to a finely tuned ritual.

We feel really lucky to have spent some time with Dave last summer. He was in town for Bob's daughter's wedding and he slept on our floor. It was like the old days for awhile. He told us he was gonna cry when Erin danced with Bob and he did.

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