The Twelve; they gathered;
Sunday (Nov.15) downtown
in Central Park;

For a rememberance,
of a brother they lost,
a year ago ;
who was compared to
the likeness of
John the Baptist :
One who paved the way,
for the others to follow suit
in his footsteps.

Four days after Election Day, 1997;
The ever-beaming Saint;
if there ever was one:
"Rick Williams";
tragically
left this city,
this world,
this life,
at North Broadway,
with impact;
on a collision course
with a mini-pickup truck,
while crossing the street on foot.

The impact I am talking about
is not the fatal accident;
but the impression it left
on all the people left behind.
The impact that "Rick" had
upon this city of Boulder.

Three Sisters and
nine Brothers of the street;
sat upon a blank angled canvas,
in an arrowhead formation,
once belonging to Rick;
facing Flagstaff Mountain;
where some of his ashes lay.

Ambient "Mickey Hart" Percussion
music played on the Boombox.

(Rick loved drumming;
you could find him on
the Pearl Street Mall, daily,
with his five year old nephew,
pounding the Congas;
all decorated in his own line
of tied-dye clothing.

His dark, dark, skin contrasting
the brilliant kerchief on his head,
and the psychedelic waistwrap
blowing in the wind exposing his BVD's,
while spinning in whirling dervishes to
the beat of his Indigenous ancestory.)

This anniversary was a celebration
of his life; all that he is about,
all that he taught us,
all that he left with us.
We spoke of all the good things;
we cried a moment, only a moment;
for this was not a time for grieving;
this was a time for Loving.
This was a moment to thank him
for all that he did and for all that he started.

This was a moment to realize
that we are still here altogether,
for each other;
the close bond we share with each of us,
out here on the street;
a family, closer knit,
than many people would ever
stop a moment to notice.

A recorded conversation,
between Rick and a Professor,
surfaced, and was played aloud
for all to hear his voice again.

The meeting ended with
a couple of photographs taken;
and a closing circle of holding hands;
with a prayer and a "Phil Driscoll" song:"Make Us One".

The group broke up after extensive hugs
between each and everyone;
even the "reluctant to hug-ones."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~

300 people attended his funeral last year;
including "Re-elcted Sheriff George Epp";
at both the Mormon Church of Latter
Day Saints down in Table Mesa;
and the S.O.S. /Day Shelter;
downtown across from Central Park.

The services went on for Hours.
People just couldn't stop speaking
of the wonders he wove in the hearts of us all.

Ironically; Rick donated his phone and trailer
to one of the Boulder City Council Candidates that year;
as home and Campaign Headquarters;
and unofficially was the campaign manager.
His mission was finished four days after "The Candidate"
lost the election.

The man fed the people
at the North Boulder Shelter for the Homeless
for about seven years.
He gave refuge to arraigned prisoners
in his shanty 1963 trailer.
He brought large vats of food
into the city parks and fed the hungry,
the houseless, the broken spirited;
and family of people in the streets.

A kitchen in Rick's name was attempted
for "Sowing Seeds Festival" last April
but failed due to unobtained required permits.
So in response; missionaries from
five of the most famous and infamous
congregations in Boulder,
poured food into Central Park, this summer;
for the hungry; on saturdays
and created the "Family Picnic in the Park";
deliberately defiant, without permits,
from: July 11, until Haloween 1998.

This was all done in the fashion,
and in the honor, and
in the memory of "Rick Williams".

...and the life lives on!

-Reverend Jahn Kefa
Hand-to-Mouth
Ministries-ULC
Boulder, Colorado