Shasty's email signature quoted the legendary Viv Savage of Spinal Tap. And he lived it. Look at any picture of him, he's somewhere having a good time and making sure everybody else was too.
Eric was a connoisseur of living. He enjoyed all the finer things in life, drink, cigars, dining, music - he occupied himself with pursuits of joy. When your phone rang from Shasty, it was always something good going on. Let's go get gelato. How about some pie? I've got some tickets to a show tonight. Jazz at the park? Breakfast King, baby!
The world was his front porch, and we were all invited to sit a spell. But it wasn't just fun and games. I can't think of a kinder, more generous person. Anyone who's known him for any length of time will have at least one story of some heroic thing he'd done for them - and I expect we'll see many on this page. Shasty was a big ol' hunk of love, and I continue to be amazed with the number of people who know and love him.
I can't even think of someone who didn't get along with Shasty. Sure, he griped like an old cantankerous prospector - he raised it to a high art form. But that was more entertainment than anything else. His heart was far too powerful to harbor resentment, spite or hatred. He had much better things to do with his time.
And I'm pissed that he didn't get more time. I'm very sad. I'm sad for all of us, for him, for his family. I wanted to meet his grandchildren. I wanted to sit on a porch when we were both old codgers and sip whiskey, listening to Louis Armstrong. I wanted you to see the Red Sox win it all. I wanted to see him go on living his dreams.
I love you, Shasty. I miss you. I'm grateful for every moment we all had with you here. We're left only with your memory now, and by God I'm going to honor that every day of my life.
