Yesterday I had the honor of visiting “Gerry’s Cabin” in the woods about half an hour south of Buffalo, not far at all from Griffis Sculpture Park, actually, which I had not realized  before. Gerry was Trisha’s dear uncle who passed away at the age of 80, after an unexpected massive heart attack. This was a family reunion in his honor at one of his favorite places.

It’s a rustic cabin in the woods. No neighbors in sight. There is a steep ravine right in the back, down to a creek. The cabin itself has everything you need, bedroom, bathroom, shower, kitchen, dining area, large fireplace in the middle, a nice living and sitting area. It is filled with 40 years of bringing stuff there and never taking anything away.

He bought it sometime in the 60ies and spent most of his summers there. When he was retired, he divided his time between his condo in Phoenix and his cabin in New York.

While the others set up for the party up front, I sat alone on the back balcony looking out over nothing but woods and down into the ravine. It was quiet there; even the sounds of people in the front didn’t seem to make it to the back. I could feel that just sitting there some time every day I could find the inner peace, self and calm that I need to be – well – happy. It does not take money, or cars, or vacations, or clothes, or fame to be happy. It takes woods.

And right there I understood how Gerry had become Gerry, a man so loved and respected and finally missed.