Remembering Terrydactyl

This from James McFarland:

Terry left instructions that in the event of his death that he was to be cremated. He requested that his long time friend and fellow paraglider pilot, Honza Rejmanek, scatter his ashes. Honza has a very busy schedule, but he is available to come to Big Sur the weekend of JULY 14th-15th. So that’s that.

The distribution of Terry’s ashes will be timed depending on the weather. Saturday afternoon [the 15th] has been penciled in. A memorial is scheduled for Saturday evening just after dark, with a possible group dinner held just before. The timing is to allow for folks who live out of the area to arrive and depart on the same day.

Plan on a potluck and B.Y.O.x. (bring your own whatever) scenario, with the possibility of a group area set up for a shared meal.

A memorial blog has been created in Terry’s name for those wishing to post stories and/or photos:
remembering Terrydactyl

thank you!
james macfarlane

For locals, we will start the party at Sand Dollar, the usual time (big sur time) – organic, spontaneous, bring what you can, come when you can, and we will share food, drumming, laughter and song and bid goodbye to Terry, as well as Jeffe, whom we haven’t sent off, yet. Both of them would want us to P-A-R-T-Y in their honor, and some of us old farts want to be home before dark! (Me and Rock Knocker and several other locals, I know of.)

3 thoughts on “Remembering Terrydactyl

  1. How nice. This is as à propos as I can get. My grandfather took me to Big Sur when I was just five or six (ca. 1947-1949) and we went trout fishing in the Big Sur River. I suppose I caught loads of trout although I only really remember feeding the squirrels with him in Capitol Park in Sacramento a few years later, before he died. Anyway, many years later I discovered Grandpa’s ashes in an urn on the top shelf of my Dad’s closet and inquired about them (I also found a 9mm Luger from my uncle’s WW II European experience and stole it, but that’s another story with a happy ending). Dad told me that he was supposed to bury the urn next to my grandmother’s urn under a special pine tree in the Sierras near where we used to have a cool cabin along the American River on Highway 50 up towards Tahoe, but that he could never find the damn tree again. So one day in 1968, we took the urn to Pfeiffer Beach – I was living at Sycamore Ranch at the time – and dad climbed the big rock next to the one with the hole in it where the paparazzi now assemble twice a year to shoot the sunrise, and tossed the ashes and bits of bone into the Pacific. It felt pretty good.

  2. Thanks, Kate. And Sterling Doughty for your splendid story.
    It’s a fine tradition on exquisite land. My chocolate Labrador, Rodin, is buried in Big Sur on a piece of promontory he just loved, in the earth. I’d found him in the Blue Ridge Mts of Virginia, and he was used to broad raging stone bedecked rivers but when we hit the Pacific beach he sat down and stared for the longest time, fixed on the size of all that water and the way it hit the sand, until he raced to it, bit the waves and barked and leapt and went delirious with joy at being presented with something that felt as big as he was. Reuniting with the planet’s substance is a good thing.

  3. I had been blessed with his laughter and close friendship , since 95. He will always be an amazing man and confidant and bring warm fuzzy smiles to my heart. watching him do the ballet he commanded , of the sail to catch and hold the winds for him. I recall with the highest admiration of his strengths and compassions…This incredible man lived….to fly. I do weep for his loss, but rejoice that he is painfree and flying with the raptors he flew with high above the clouds. I can visit you in my dreams , My friend…so I will look forward to soaring with you, perhaps in the moonlight. I have and will always hold a love for the man we called…Terrydactyl

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