I miss his heart. I routinely called him "Russel Russel the Love Muscle." Giving affection and sharing his loving heart seemed to be what sustained him. His conversations with me always began and ended with joy, even if he was down about school or "lopping off the old mop." :) I think his ability to love is insatiable, and it's comforting to know that all of us who’ve come to know him, us down here, and them up there, have been blessed to experience such a generous and lovely heart that is Russel’s.
The following is an excerpt from an email I sent to Deborah around the time of his birthday in 2007. I think it conveys the dynamics that was Russ’ and my friendship, and how I appreciate nature and Russ as one—thinking about and appreciating one of them always evokes warm thoughts of the other.
“Today was one of those days where the sun is out, but not beating, rather more of a somber shine. There weren't a lot of clouds out, but the feeling of the air was gray, colorless, and without warmth. Birds were not singing, nor were the flowers dancing.
But perhaps it is this very arrangement that prompts and encourages the wind--the chance, finally, to be praised and thoroughly enjoyed without competition from the sun and rain. The chance for the wind to be appreciated for simply being the wind, not for the brief relief it can provide from the sun’s scorching heat, or that it drives the thunderhead more quickly through. But rather, to encourage us to be genuine, and retreat to our porch swings and wicker chairs and allow our thoughts and stray hairs to become unanchored and upswept.
And it was on days exactly like this one that Russell and I shared a love for—being outside and simply being. I would take my phone on hikes simply to call him and describe the scenery and delight. More than once I would pull out my phone to dial and my phone would begin to ring with his call. We loved the thought of days like this. We even loved just talking about what we would do when days like this finally did slip into our laps…going on a run in the crisp morning, reading a book on the porch, walking along a tree-lined trail with the delicious heavy smells of wet moss and feeling protected by the ginkgos and cedars. For me, feeling beautiful and feminine standing beneath a tricolored beech tree; for him, hiking and being the “mountain man” he claimed with a grin that he was.”