I once fell in love with a girl who hailed from the desert. She took me there to a cabin. Inside the attic, there was a bedroom where the wooden ceiling tapered. We laid together hearing the evening crickets and sharing quiet whispers. She was a woman of this land and she carried herself different.
This last week we lost Chester.
Chester also was from the desert. He was ferocious in delivery but calm and gentle in passing. Years ago I traveled to Berlin with this man, we were working together on a project. I remember each and every time when people would approach him at the airport, he would drop his bags and embrace them with a deep hug, pose for a selfie and listen to them intently. We took a road trip around the alps of Austria and he would share stories that would make you laugh. You would forget that this man was a voice, a powerful voice that spoke for many.
He was from the desert and the land made him different. He stood different, he talked different and boy did he sing different. He didn't merely sing, he wailed with a menace. He gutted his body for those that needed it.
This man has passed onto the yonder, far from Arizona, far from these arid fields to the beyond. He will not be forgotten, history will fondly protect his voice and his grace.
Chester, may you rest in peace. Your humanity will always be remembered.