Fred Ward

A boxer’s nose and a walk made for trouble
In his movies he’d outlast his body doubles
As he did one day with me in the gym
Doing squats with no rest, just no catching him

You showed me Chavela Vargas and the early Gypsy Kings
Carlos Monzon was your man in the Ring.
Meanness and strength can surely be virtues
In a world full of people always trying to hurt you.

Cormac’s ‘Blood Meridian’ was another treasure
That you surprised me with; a gift without measure
It’s a book worth reading and reading again
I paid you back with Hemingway’s “Fifty Grand.”

Papa would have liked you, he wrote about fighters,
Short order cooks and those who were brighter
Than their circumstances might have first showed
Your path to Hollywood was an unpaved road.

You shone in Southern Comfort, a ‘Nam allegory
Set in a swamp, great characters and story.
‘The Player’ was another good one too,
When the studio had trouble, they came running to you.

Thanks for treating me so well, with your high-powered job
Keeping in touch when you were back in Santa Barb
Speaking music, movies, Chet Baker, the North Sea
Elmore Leonard, Heraclitus and Peggy Lee.

People move around, fall out of touch
You remember their grace and can miss them so much
Then they pass and it’s just a story on your phone
The loss, the sorrow and the great unknown.

You once gave me a book called City Primeval
Crackling dialogue and unspeakable evil
On the inside an inscription – ‘Work hard; Stay strong.’
You knew a great movie only lasts so long.