Writer, teacher and fisherman Lawrence Levine in his favorite Oregon fishing stream
I lost the two most important people in my life when I was in my 20's to equally sudden and violent deaths. She was in her 20's and we thought we had our whole lives to look forward to while he was in 30's and she and I would have never met if I had not been invite into his world.
So I know what it is like to have a large part of who I was - and who I had always expected to be - to suddenly vanish and to be no more. And even though who I am today - and who I will always be - will be in large part because of them; the emptiness they left behind will always be there.
And that is why I think it is important to help those who lost friends and family up in Oregon to know that a part of each of their loved ones lives - and a part of what they were doing in those lives will able to continue live on even after they are gone.
The below article in the Daily Beast tells us something about the life of – and the qualities of – one of the nine shooting victims in Oregon. He also mentions that he wrote several novels which had not yet been published. Novels that – if they were published – would allow him to say – the things he had been unable to publicly say during his like.
And then it occurred to me with so many of the victims dying so early – before most of them could make their full marks on the world, what if there could be a way to help each of them fulfill at least one of the goals they had been unable to fulfill during their lives. And I have made inquiries to see that type of assistance might be welcomed
--------------------------------------------------------------And, as an additional note, though I would assume this has already been proposed, since most of the voices who have been silenced were taking writing classes - possibly a short anthology of their work.
Slain English Teacher Led Quiet LifeLawrence Levine, the English teacher killed at the Oregon community college shooting, was a wordsmith who passed his days fishing and enjoying a nice bottle of wine.
GLIDE, OREGON—Lawrence Levine was a man of letters and fishing
The English teacher at Umpqua Community College – whom 26-year-old Chris Harper-Mercer shot and killed Thursday during a rampage at the school in rural Roseburg – took up residence in a small house on the North Umpqua River, according to the local directory. A cursory stop at the address reveals a simple if boxy brown house where you can hear the rush of the river below with clarit.It’s in Glide – a wooded satellite town roughly 20 minutes east of Roseburg – from which Levine would have commuted to work. Just down the street from his house is the Narrows, a dingy bar still dark despite the afternoon sun outside.Kim Rennings-Stevens, a blonde with purple-framed glasses, takes a break from video gambling to speak with The Daily Beast about her friend of 20 years. She heard of his being shot on Thursday and found out Friday the attack proved fatal after local officials released the names of the murderer’s nine victims. At 67, Levine was the oldest to be slaughtered. According to student Kortney Moore in an interview with the News-Review, the gunner shot Levine in the head“You'd never find him at a party,” Rennings-Stevens knows. She remembers the man as reserved, keeping to himself and the water. He was a fly fishing guide and a lover of wine, she said.One wonders if Levine didn’t sip the odd glass and enjoy taking in the view from his house on the North Umpqua.David Furman, with whom Levine grew up in Southern California, according to The Oregonian, was a longtime friend.“He was the sweetest, most gentle, kind, thoughtful and creative person,” said Furman in an interview with the Portland-based newspaper, which also reported the wordsmith had written more than a few unpublished novels.
The nature in Glide feels almost Walden-esque – simple, solitary, beautiful and tucked away. Perhaps it serves as an apt reflection of the author and academic who once called the small community home.
Of losing his friend, Furman told The Oregonian: “My heart is broken.”