Mike wrote short works of fiction, drama, and poetry as holiday presents for his friends - he never had a lot of money, so he gave of himself. "Winter Solstice, Camelot Station" was one of these short works. Sometime between Thanksgiving and the December holidays, we would go to Kinko's and he would make 100 or so copies; we would get envelopes, and he would mail them and distribute them to friends and loved ones.
We were all very lucky to have Mike in our lives; he had diabetes and then later kidney failure. He was on peritoneal dialysis for two years before his kidney transplant (his nephrologist was pleased that Mike only got peritonitis three times during those two years). But throughout it all, Mike was witty, urbane (just like his picture in Faces of Fantasy), and a creative genius. I genuinely thought he would be with us much longer than he actually was.
Thank you so much for this Victor. It is inspiring to think of him -- of anybody -- giving something as precious as this poem away for free. It's terrible to think of him passing away so early but I'm glad to hear he was appreciated by his friends. His genius lives on.
Mike was a dear friend, and while I never got the Christmas card with Winter Solstice, Camelot Station, I have seen two of them, cherished possessions of their owners. I can confirm that yes, this was his Christmas card he mailed out to 250 friends in 1987. It was anthologized in 1988.
This magnificent poem was first published in a collection of Arthurian stories, “Invitation To Camelot,” making it in at the last minute because the editor was blown away by it and made room. In our household we read it aloud on Winter Solstice Eve every year, taking turns and passing the book around. It never fails to give me chills in the very best way. Usually I call dibs on the final section, although getting the last two lines out without breaking down can be hard. Read it aloud, I double-dog dare you - and you won’t be sorry!
The poem did have a book publication in the collection from NESFA Press, _From the End of the 20th Century_. (That's where I read it.)
And since you say you don't know much about Ford, let me say that you *need* to read _The Dragon Waiting_. (I realize that I'm an Internet random whose recommendation you have no reason to trust, but nonetheless this is a true thing.)
Mike wrote short works of fiction, drama, and poetry as holiday presents for his friends - he never had a lot of money, so he gave of himself. "Winter Solstice, Camelot Station" was one of these short works. Sometime between Thanksgiving and the December holidays, we would go to Kinko's and he would make 100 or so copies; we would get envelopes, and he would mail them and distribute them to friends and loved ones.
We were all very lucky to have Mike in our lives; he had diabetes and then later kidney failure. He was on peritoneal dialysis for two years before his kidney transplant (his nephrologist was pleased that Mike only got peritonitis three times during those two years). But throughout it all, Mike was witty, urbane (just like his picture in Faces of Fantasy), and a creative genius. I genuinely thought he would be with us much longer than he actually was.
I miss Mike, a great deal.
-Victor Raymond
Thank you so much for this Victor. It is inspiring to think of him -- of anybody -- giving something as precious as this poem away for free. It's terrible to think of him passing away so early but I'm glad to hear he was appreciated by his friends. His genius lives on.
"We all live on borrowed time. Life's purpose is creating works of sufficient interest to pay off the debt." -- John M. Ford (paraphrased)
Mike was a dear friend, and while I never got the Christmas card with Winter Solstice, Camelot Station, I have seen two of them, cherished possessions of their owners. I can confirm that yes, this was his Christmas card he mailed out to 250 friends in 1987. It was anthologized in 1988.
Wonderful poem. I’m so glad you found it.
This magnificent poem was first published in a collection of Arthurian stories, “Invitation To Camelot,” making it in at the last minute because the editor was blown away by it and made room. In our household we read it aloud on Winter Solstice Eve every year, taking turns and passing the book around. It never fails to give me chills in the very best way. Usually I call dibs on the final section, although getting the last two lines out without breaking down can be hard. Read it aloud, I double-dog dare you - and you won’t be sorry!
Thank you Tracy! I will definitely give it a try -- I've read it so many times in my head. I doubt I'll make it through those last lines either.
The poem did have a book publication in the collection from NESFA Press, _From the End of the 20th Century_. (That's where I read it.)
And since you say you don't know much about Ford, let me say that you *need* to read _The Dragon Waiting_. (I realize that I'm an Internet random whose recommendation you have no reason to trust, but nonetheless this is a true thing.)
Off topic but apropos of Brunel--my favorite reference to Brunel is "The Humours of Whiskey," here performed by Hozier.
https://youtu.be/rQ-UItNBoMw?si=dPm5vefvP8iu9O4D