Rash, Victor
VICTOR R. RASH: (Photo taken by Scott A. Molampy on Long Beach Island, NJ- sometime in the Mid-90's. Victor rented a wonderful little beach house that summer, a block from the ocean, and generously invited many of us down for a few days. From time to time, many FAB-u-lous recollections still continue to surface from that very, very sweet time... ).
Biography:
Victor R. Rash was born in Dover, Delaware on January 15th, 1954, and left his body in New York City on August 2nd, 2003.
Date of Birth: 1/15/1954
Date of Death: 8/2/2003
Age at Death: 49
Churches/Spiritual Organizations:
Employment:
Social/Political Groups he attended:
City of Brotherly Love Softball League
Favorite Literary Works/Authors:
Walt Whitman
Poets:
Favorite Musicians:
R.E.M.
Joan Armatrading
Joni Mitchell
Bars/Clubs he attended:
Roland's Tavern, Portland, Maine
Charlie's On Route 1, Ogunquit, Maine
The Front Porch, Ogunquit, Maine
The Phoenix, Portland, Maine
The Underground, Portland, Maine
Woody's, Philadelphia, PA
His friends include: (type your name here, and names of others):
William Mills (NYC)
Scott Molampy (NYC)
Jimmy Griffin (NJ)
Jim Derham (NJ),
Blaze
Bernie Newman (Philadelphia, PA)
TESTIMONIALS TO VICTOR:
From William Arthur Mills (NYC):
Victor, nor I, were never actually really big H. W. Longfellow fans... but, since we both spent many years in Portland, Maine (Longfellow's native town- and birthplace) we did share a sentimental soft spot for his "My Lost Youth" (Longfellow's recollections of his earlier years growing up in Portland). Victor and I were barely 20 years old when we first met. This poem so vividly captures the feeling of Portland, and our own youthful days there together throughout much of the 1970's.
For some reason, this format doesn't allow me to "cut and paste" this endearing poem into Victor's profile ("Thank God", some of you may be thinking!!!), but, in dedication to Victor, I'll just type in the first three stanzas:
Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still;
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I can see the shadowy lines of it's trees,
And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hesperides
Of all my boyish dreams.
And the burden of that old song,
It murmurs and whispers still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I remember the black wharves and the ships,
And the sea tides tossing free;
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beauty and mystery of the ships,
And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song
Is singing and saying still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
(Incidentally, it was always the part about the "Spanish sailors with bearded lips" that most brought a devilish grin and giggle to both of our faces! -William Arthur Mills/ NYC)
