The Ypsilanti Courier
A Heritage Newspaper
Weekly Publication
A dear friend was taken from us far too soon
PUBLISHED: March 27, 2008
It's hard writing obituaries. It's especially hard when writing about a close friend. But, I want people to know Al Curry as I knew him - as a mentor, a colleague and, most of all, as a friend.
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When Al Curry moved to Michigan to marry my friend, Shelley Doran, I gained another friend and the big brother I'd never had. We ended up spending a lot of time together. We plotted an historic novel that never got written because survival, meaning paying jobs, got in the way.
We would go for coffee at the Ugly Mug and sit for hours discussing everything under the sun. Al, whose West Virginia accent would thicken after talking with relatives or friends back there, was knowledgeable about a vast array of topics and had opinions on most of them.
Al was a kindred spirit of the written word. We talked a lot about writing. For writers, it's not what we do, it's who we are, and it permeates every aspect of our lives.
We'd talk about the mechanics of our craft and how thoughts would come to us, often in the most inconvenient places, like when driving a car or taking a shower. We'd talk about the etymology of words - where they came from, how they'd begun and how they came to have the meaning they have now.
We both walked about with notebooks, although Al's was always fancier than mine. For writers, there's no such thing as a vacation, just more grist for the mental mill that will eventually produce an essay, a poem, a story or, in Al's case, a song.
He loved his wife. Above all, he loved his wife with every breath he took. When Shelley would call while we were at coffee, he would look at the phone and say, "That's my wife" or "That's my lady" with this special grin that took 40 years off his age, making him a giddy teen-ager again.
And he loved his family, especially his children, stepchildren and grandchildren, even when the little ones drove him nuts. He was proud of their intelligence and their accomplishments.
The three of us did things together and as part of a larger group of friends. At the Curry table, one could expect lively conversation, a great deal of storytelling, the pointed skewering of politicians and more laughter than I had experienced in many a year.
The only other person I've known to get people laughing in that way was my father, another man of Irish descent, as was Al. Trust the Irish to give a quick quip and a strong opinion every time.
Being Irish was something of which Al was very proud. He'd spent several years in Ireland and had many stories and reminiscences with which to regale us, all in an Irish brogue he assumed as the tales rolled forth. His time there and in Mexico provided fodder for stories of good food, strong drink, easy loving and a great many characters who seemed larger than life.
But Al, himself, seemed larger than life. He was a great bear of a man, with a strong handshake and the ability to take that same hand and write words that would make you laugh or weep at his whim. Or, he would pick up a guitar and accompany his own Irish baritone in songs that were funny, or sad, or merely beautiful.
Far too soon, he has been taken from us. His heart could no longer support the force of nature that was Al Curry.
To quote the movie "Blade Runner," "The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long."
Al burned very brightly and warmed those of us who knew him by his very presence. He will be missed.
Kathleen Conat is a longtime Ypsilanti resident and freelance writer for The Courier. She can be reached through editor@ypsilanticourier.com.
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