A philospher, a scholar, a friend

It was with great sorrow, that I learned of the recent passing of one of Cornell’s longtime residents, Wayne Meyer. My first encounter with Wayne was memorable, perhaps only to me. It was at the Ashland County fair in Marengo.

Wayne was a vendor, selling his famous deep-fried cheese curds, out of that signature orangepainted booth. That was the first time I had ever sampled Wayne’s cheese curds and, quite frankly, it spoiled me for any other booth’s cheese curds forevermore.

I anticipated the fair each year, with an eagerness that didn’t necessarily revolve around touring the various livestock barns or the buildings showcasing exhibits of 4-H projects, floral arrangements or the best vegetables area gardeners had to offer, hoping to garner a blue ribbon or the coveted Best of Show honor.

I love touring all the attractions and riding my favorite of all rides, the Tilt-O-Whirl. The main reason for attending, as far as I’m concerned, is partaking of all the delectable carnival food available for purchase.

I always ended with Wayne’s mouth-watering cheese curds and, of course, you’ll need something to wash them down, so the perfect accompaniment was Wayne’s lemonade. Those two food items were the highlight every year.

Wayne also happened to be one of the first people I met when I moved to Cornell. The first time he walked into the Courier Sentinel office, he didn’t say much and remained reserved. Every time after that, he would say a few more words.

His eyes didn’t miss a thing and it seemed like he was sizing me up, studying and assessing my character. Then, one day, he smiled and laughed. What a transformation! His eyes twinkled and he had the best laugh. I looked forward to his visits with anticipation, as he was a wonderful storyteller and was knowledgeable on so many subjects.

One day, he was telling me how he had planned on going white water canoeing that weekend, but his partner had backed out. I made the comment of how fun that sounded. He looked at me and said, “Want to go?” I countered with, “I would love to, but I can’t swim.” He responded with, “So? Everyone always wears a life jacket, even if they can swim.”

The die was cast.

I met Wayne at his house early that Saturday morning. His wife, Sirella, came out of the house with snacks for us and to wish us well. I enjoyed the drive almost as much as the canoe journey. Wayne was a philosopher and a scholar, and shared the many adventures of his world travels. He even taught me a few words in his native tongue, which, sadly, I no longer recall.

He talked about Sirella and how she was a princess of her tribe, his children and his culture. I wish we could have driven for hours, as I don’t know of a time when I enjoyed myself more.

I’m not sure the exact location we stopped to put the canoe into the water, but we met with Duane and Sue Spaeth, who would accompany us. Wayne’s son, Henry, drove Wayne’s truck to Flambeau Lodge, which was our stopping destination.

Before we got into our respective canoes, Wayne gave a tobacco offering to the river, asking the Great Spirit to protect us and bless us with safe passage on her waters. I was humbled and deeply honored to witness this respectful tradition.

Our trip by canoe was an 18-mile stretch. I laughed, thinking Wayne was joking. He was not. The first seven miles were the rock-filled rapids. Lord have mercy! Wayne said at the start, if we reached the lodge and his wool stocking cap was dry, he would by me a can of pop. If it got wet, I would buy.

I’ll spare you the suspense…I purchased the pop that day. We hadn’t even made it through the first set of rapids and I somehow managed to overturn the canoe. In my usual calm fashion, I wailed, “I can’t do this!” Wayne looked at me matter-of-factly and said, “Well, lady, you’re stuck. The truck is 18 miles from here and this is the only way to get to it.”

As we were paddling along, I noticed there was water in the bottom of the canoe (it wasn’t from me capsizing it either). Wayne nonchalantly said, “That’s because there’s a hole in it.” And handed me an empty coffee can he kept in the canoe for bailing. Uhhh…now I understand why his other canoe companion bailed (no pun intended) on him.

We stopped about halfway through the trip to eat our lunch. There was a huge flat rock we would climb on, where we could sit and eat, and watch several insane individuals with an apparent death wish, body surf down a 6-foot rapids drop. The kicker was we had to paddle the canoe down that drop first. Being that I was in the front of the canoe, I absolutely refused to do it. Wayne looked stunned and said, “But, you have to!” I responded with, “I don’t have to do anything. I. Will. Not. Do. It.”

He said, “Then you’ll have to walk through the woods, where there’s no trail and I’ll pick you up on the other side of the rapids.” I said. “OK.” He was shocked, thinking that traipsing through thick brambles would be a deterrent. It was not.

When we were safely on our lunch rock, Wayne told me going across the rapids to retrieve me was extremely more dangerous than if we had just come down the drop. Not as far as I was concerned. The river was low in some spots, so I had to get out and drag the canoe over the rocks. River rocks are slime-covered and slippery, as I found out to my detriment.

I ended up lying in the water, underneath the canoe. I had a death grip on the side. After the last capsizing incident, I wasn’t taking any chances of letting the canoe float way without me. Wayne laughed uproariously whenever he saw me after that, teasing me that it was the funniest thing he‘d ever seen, me lying under the canoe, taking a nap.

I am blessed beyond belief to have known this amazing man, who taught me to paddle a canoe, step out of my comfort zone to experience new things and for not letting me drown. Safe journey, my sweet friend.