Haunted and inspired by dreams of Ferlinghetti
Joan Gelfand
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Lawrence Ferlinghetti in 1970Sam Falk / New York Times 1970
At 11:30 on Tuesday morning, my cell phone began crazily ringing with text notifications. I was in Golden Gate Park enjoying the midwinter break a sunny, 70-degree day in San Francisco.
“Larry!” one said. “Holy Ferlinghetti,” said another. “Sad about Larry” was a third. Lawrence Ferlinghetti, the giant among poets worldwide, had passed at 101.
Ferlinghetti first came into my life when I was a freshman in high school. My father had just passed, and books and reading were my love and my escape. “The Coney Island of the Mind” was the first book of poetry that gave me an inkling that I, too, could commit words to paper. Free verse poems were taking their place in the literary canon. Ferlinghetti’s poems “broke open letters.”
Friends, family remember Gilmore
Karen Gilmore, wife
âDennis was such a character - dry wit, boundless energy, always available to help others, a builder of people. He had an uncanny ability to see raw potential, especially in young actors and draw it out by being a safety net to build confidence. He was so often taken for granted and worked so hard behind the scenes willingly sharing the spotlight for the benefit of the individual and betterment of the organization - whichever organization. Not a saint, definitely opinionated, but always generous of heart and forgiving. I m going to miss him so much. As others have expressed on Facebook, My life has been immeasurably enriched for having known him, for being loved by him and being carried into new ventures because of his creative energy, insight and willingness to make the thing happen. And then, having made the commitment, absolutely refusing to fail.â