Ducati Monster Forum

HARRISON - Gerard F. on June 14, 2013 of Port Washington, NY. Beloved Husband of Virginia. Dear Father of Erika, David, Carrie and Brittany. Lov-ing brother of Amy, David and Elizabeth Harrison. Calling hours at The Fairchild Funeral Chapel, 1570 Northern Blvd, Manhasset on Monday 3-6 & 7-9pm. Donations in his memory may be made to the 9/11 charity of your choice .


Published in Newsday on June 16, 2013

His eloquence and insight will be missed - we are diminished by his passing...................damn

His eloquence and insight will be missed - we are diminished by his passing...................damn

This one just takes the wind right out of my sails....

I needed to meet him and it didn't happen.
I feel so sad for Najee dog who's likely wondering when he'll walk back in the door...

I couldn't really explain to a friend why I needed to take a raincheck from getting together tonight...  How do you explain that you're grieving for someone you never met?

This one just takes the wind right out of my sails....

I needed to meet him and it didn't happen.
I feel so sad for Najee dog who's likely wondering when he'll walk back in the door...

I couldn't really explain to a friend why I needed to take a raincheck from getting together tonight...  How do you explain that you're grieving for someone you never met?

This one just takes the wind right out of my sails....

I needed to meet him and it didn't happen.
I feel so sad for Najee dog who's likely wondering when he'll walk back in the door...

I couldn't really explain to a friend why I needed to take a raincheck from getting together tonight...  How do you explain that you're grieving for someone you never met?

I feel the same.. Mary posted about it on facebook & I immediately started crying. He touched everyone he encountered on here..if anyone is doing any type of donation or something, anything for his family please let me know

I feel the same.. Mary posted about it on facebook & I immediately started crying. He touched everyone he encountered on here..if anyone is doing any type of donation or something, anything for his family please let me know

The family has requested donations to a "9/11 charity of your choice"

I suggest we get together and make a single donation that will make everyone understand how important this man was to us.

BTW...T went to high school with a lot of those people that were there that day...some are still alive. She might be able to find out which charities are most effective.

I'd be glad to handle the details.

I'd be glad to handle the details.

That would be appreciated. 

I'm in for $50. Where do I send it?

I'm good at details...

a bit slow on the uptake though. :P

Here's what I suggest.

I'll accept paypal donations to the "DMF Gerard Harrison Memorial Fund"

send them to the email in my profile as a gift so we can avoid fees. 100% of the funds actually collected will be passed on to the charity we select.

We can decide which charity later.

Let's get this rolling...I'm in for a hundred.

$50 sent...  Damn.

It truly sucks.

I'm getting a bit weary of my friends dying.

It's a hazard of age. :-\

RIP Rat, you will be missed.

what a shitty week.

lm and i just heard that or neighbor passed away in his sleep early wednesday morning.

lm and i just heard that or neighbor passed away in his sleep early wednesday morning.

AFAIK he never mentioned it on the forum, but he was inside the WTC on 9/11.

fear of death has never played large in my family culture...if it doesn't find us we wind up tracking it down one way or another

usually if it finds us first we are asking it why it took some long

now this is not to say I don't care its just that I have had one hell of a good run

and could call it a wrap in good conscience....seriously what's ahead at age 61? senile dementia, diapers, a failing mind and carcass...no thanks

most of my battle here is for the benefit of my loved ones

for some odd reason they want  me around longer  [cheeky]

Dammit.

He will be missed ferociously.

Godspeed.

^ This. [wine]

I may be too old to remember this correctly but wasn't RAT the one who posted the incredibly funny and well written post/story about the mime in NY who got punched out by a passby who obviously wasn't in the mood for mime bullshit? I believe it was and just thinking about it still makes me laugh! [laugh]

His posts, thoughts and insights were awesome. A truly gifted individual. What a loss for everyone. Again, one of the many, many folks on this board I have never met face to face but would love to. As nice as that would have been I have a good feeling that we all knew him pretty well.

RIP Gerry. My thoughts and prayers go out to you, your family and all your friends... on the DMF and every where else.

fastwin

http://www.ducatimonsterforum.org/index.php?topic=40307.msg718699#msg718699 (http://www.ducatimonsterforum.org/index.php?topic=40307.msg718699#msg718699)

 ;)

http://www.ducatimonsterforum.org/index.php?topic=40307.msg718699#msg718699 (http://www.ducatimonsterforum.org/index.php?topic=40307.msg718699#msg718699)

 ;)

I found a better pic of Gerry than the one on his linkedin profile...

(http://images.classmates.com/pho103/5/F/4/8//5F487EF70589BC5ABFCB84494FF2E1E0.jpg)

That look explains it all.  ;)

3 years today.

Miss you Gerry. This place is far less without you.

:(

Weird coincidence, I thought of him while mowing my lawn last weekend.  ???

..were there any dead vermin in your swimming pool?  ;D

A couple of weeks ago, for no apparent reason, I opened up the Rat Tales thread and went through it all.  There's a lot of life in there

IIRC it's missing a couple of things-I think "My culinary experience" and the one about mimes.

I think I sent Ung a PM about it but he ignored my sage wisdom.

Allow me to apologize in advance....I hate mimes, or pantomimes if you will. I'm Sorry....sort of....this loathing is followed closely by clown-hatred

I know it is not a rational thing and with some serious counseling we could probably get to the root of the issue....but these days I am hesitant to pull on any of the loose threads of my personality for fear of what might come unraveled, and Mime Hatred is not on the top of the triage roster of self-improvement initiatives. So I have made my peace with the demon of Mime Hatred that I carry in my head....to the point where I have Googled "Mimes" and found that I am not alone...there are others, this is comforting. witness:

http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net/c.cgi?u=mimes2 (http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net/c.cgi?u=mimes2)

This fellow understands, apparently there are many of us who do. I am pretty sure that Mime Hatred isn't yet classed as an official hate speech crime so I will speak openly until then. Also I don't plan on slashing any early-era Harlequin Picasso's ,,,I do keep my pathology in check.

I once witnessed a Street Mime get clocked in the nose.

It is a treasured memory. Street Mimes feed off people...they use your obvious traits or characteristics to amuse others. I am from the school that only gives people I know or love or simply trust and like...the permission to take a poke at me for laughs.

A stranger in greasepaint and tights attempting to make a fool of me for the amusement of other strangers is not on the list of allowed individuals.

Back in the early 1980's I was working in Lower Manhattan over on Broad Street...in the nice weather we would go over to the pier at the end of South Street at lunchtime to get buckets of beer from Jeremy's Kiosk on the wharf. It was before "The Seaport" was finished becoming the official GA-Rated Disney tour it now is. Yes there were lots of tourists but the area still had a few more raw edges to it than it had boutiques. Sweet's Restaurant was still a cash-only enterprise...

The hot, humid days of mid-summer would ferment the raw stench of the Fulton Fish Market next door to the Seaport, the odor would waft down the narrow cobblestone streets permeating the area with an authentic smell of old 19th century NY waterfront...and, like the fishmongers who worked the market, it added the right element of residual forgotten-zone seediness to the area.

Manhattan has pretty much run out of seedy forgotten zones, there used to be so many and I miss them

Anyway, I was walking down Water Street one summer day and cut down South Street to head under the FDR to the wharf to get my lunchtime beer ration. A clump of tourists was gathered halfway down the block. In front of them was a Street Mime performing...yup black tights, harlequin shirt and white grease-paint...ugh

As I walked past him and his audience I tensed up.

I have social anxiety..big time...it runs in my DNA and as a consequence I have had to develop more masks and persona's than a make the beast with two backsing mime or a sociopath could ever wet-dream up.

I had to, in order to survive in the world, but behind all of my fronts, is one really self-conscious gnome operating the controls. I can impersonate just about anything I need to and it has worked quite well...

but let me tell you if I am cornered into being the center of attention for more than 4 or 5 people I will try to dig through the floor to escape....a violinist coming to my table at a dinner is like an eternity of damnation....a restaurant room full of good natured patrons joining into a Happy Birthday ambush on me....well someone please shoot me...someone on stage looking at me too long...forget it....or worse an entertainer looking to buttonhole volunteers will have me diving for the floor

I am not timid by any stretch...actually I can be rather terrifying when I need to be...but there are some situations in which I just internally disintegrate

Anyway, the Mime sees me and decides to use me for the crowd's enjoyment...he falls in behind me as I quicken my pace to a forced march.....imitating my walk from behind and then beside me, turning his head and staring theatrically into my face....I am make the beast with two backsing dying...a whole squadron of people are watching my humiliation...and laughing at me...I keep going, with a sphincter tight enough to crack walnuts open... eyes locked onto Jeremy's Kiosk over on the wharf....it was now a four 1-quart bucket lunch before I would be sufficiently numb enough to wander back across the road onto South Street.

I stood a safe distance away from the Mime nursing my bucket of beer and indulged my hatred...watching him work the crowd of tourists...and passers-by....oh how they laughed and applauded him with their make the beast with two backsing out-of-town cloddish senses of humor.

I think the half-drunk bile and hatred I was generating caught the attention of the Gods of NYC....they heard my prayer of indignant rage and responded...they smiled upon me that day.....

"Real" New York was on its way to greet the Mime and the tourists...the authentic New York that lives below the surface public relations veneer

"Real" NY took the form of a stocky fellow trundling down South Street at a furious pace. A short dark Italian guy, maybe late-30's, oily hair, sweating, pissed-off face; in a hurry and in an expensive suit that stretched across some scary muscles...this guy was  about five foot-five inches short and heavy-set but you could see that it wasn't fat, his arms were like my thighs and they rippled, his legs were like my torso

This was the Brooklyn equivalent of a Sumo wrestler,,,, in a high-roll collar. His hands were the size of those prosciutto hams hanging in an Italian Deli....and this guy radiated an energy field of menace that set-off and sent out danger signals to anyone even remotely familiar with trouble.

Clearly he was a mob financial consultant, a professional Leg-Breaker on his way over to the Fulton Fish Market to collect on some markers from the fishmongers for his shylock boss. On a mission and already adrenaline-pumped for action. I knew this guy was danger before I could even see his eyes...and you don't sustain eye-contact with this type...they really react poorly to that...they figure you are sizing them...sustained eye contact is a direct challenge and it can provoke a potentially painful confrontation. If he ever showed up at your door asking for you by name you would instinctively know you were very make the beast with two backsed for doing something very wrong to the wrong type of person.

The Street Mime seeing this near-caricature of a Sopranos/Godfather Goon humping down the cobblestones was oblivious to the threat...clueless...all he saw was an opportunity to use this guy to amuse the crowd...much in the same manner as he used me.

So the Mime fell into stride next to the Angel of Vengeance, half-crouching to get to the same stature while imitating the trundle-walk of his muscle-bound victim. The leg-breaker kept his pace and kept his eyes forward while the Mime, walking next to him, craned his head around to look into his victim's face imitating his deadly serious expression.

I saw the prosciutto ham fist come up..... it was lightning quick...a short jab...it hardly seemed to require any movement...a blink and you would have missed it

The Mime stopped walking and suddenly stood upright, dazed...his face then exploded in gushing fountains of blood, squirting from a fully flattened nose......all over his white greasepaint face...

his legs literally became like rubber and he collapsed in such an exaggerated wobbling mime-like manner  the crowd laughed and applauded thinking it was part of the show...

and the make the beast with two backser was moaning in pain on the cobbles, his crushed white face a puddle of bleeding flesh...yes,,moaning...breaking some sworn oath of silence that I am certain Mimes must take

The leg-breaker passing me didn't even break his pace to rid us of the Mime...he glanced at me for a moment to see if I might be an undercover cop or some other form of additional trouble...and in that millisecond of eye contact I said to him "Thank you."

He nodded and said "I hate dose make the beast with two backsers" as he passed me, eyes returning to forward

I replied "So do I"

Already past me, he just said "everyone should"

Well wherever he is..... I want to thank that Leg Breaking Mob Financial Consultant for collecting the marker from that Mime, the debt owed for borrowing people's dignity and paying nothing back to any of the hapless people used as brunts for the amusement of others....

I hope this written remembrance of that act of kindness on behalf of Mime Haters everywhere, repays my debt to him as well.

For surely he was an angel sent by the Gods of NY to strike vengeance for us all

I have an odd assemblage of unsung heros, that guy will always be one of them

IIRC it's missing a couple of things-I think "My culinary experience" and the one about mimes.

I think I sent Ung a PM about it but he ignored my sage wisdom.

You did?  I did?  I mean, under normal circumstances one would expect that I.....  would.

But not when it comes to a good RAT story.

I've not read either of those before (that I remember - which is a huge caveat).  Thanks for pointing out their omission.

Long time no hear! 

I was thinking more in terms of physical suffering.


I'm sure he'd chime in on this with something quippy here.   ;)

Never actually met him, but resting peacefully...?

Gerry was never peaceful.

He was wound tight as a ten cent toy...and I'll remember him like that.

Hope Gerry will be OK with me drinking bourbon.

I doubt he's resting.

More likely stirring up some shit. ;)

[wine] He'd be make the beast with two backsing thrilled to ambivalent to know we still hold him in such high regard.

Cheers Gerry  [wine]

I saw you quote him recently on another medium.

Last evening, whilst taking my mom & sis on a brief walking tour of my neighborhood, there was a woman situated by a bar/music venue, a spa and a variable space with a typewriter on a portable table.  She had a sign that said, "give me a topic, I'll write you a poem".  And in a sense, I somehow channeled Gerry thinking, "why the make the beast with two backs would I trust a complete and random stranger to convey one simple thought of mine into a poem"...

There once was a cynic called Randy
Whose perspective was augmented by brandy
Trust you I should not
To pen not a jot
About that which I believe to be dandy