Al Bell’s son Matt wheeled him up to the barn at Roger Averbeck’s place.

The barn was full and people had laid out food tables and auction items on tables outside the barn. Al was pale but smiling his normal Al smile, and when I went to greet him, he smiled that smile and said that “we go back a long ways, Rich, to those times in the back of the Bookloft.”

“And to you working for Mac Huff in the sporting goods store,” I chimed in. He laughed at that memory, and I told him how fine it was that we hadn’t waited too late to celebrate with him.

Matt and Al made their way, stopping patiently to acknowledge each friend and well-wisher, until he was inside at a table in front of a group of musicians with a Terminal Gravity bar set up to the side. Al’s son, Matt, and his wife, Joy Patterson, make their home in New Orleans, but come and play here summers near family. Local musicians joined them on a recent Sunday night with voices and strings, and a fine clarinet in a blend of New Orleans music and old standards. Al, his wife, Jennifer, daughter Jacey and scores of local friends listened, fed, and drank together.

TG donated the beer; we stuffed bills into a jar as part of the evening’s fundraising. That was the purpose of the event: to raise money for Al and family to cover the expenses not covered by Medicare and insurance involved with the treatment of his very serious brain cancer. In addition to the donated beer, there were donated fishing trips, gourmet meals, and a house concert. Appropriate, as we know Al as a mouth harp player who has played around the county for decades.

I don’t know how long Al and his family have known about the brain cancer; I learned only recently, probably from Matt when he and his wife, Joy, played at the Wallowa Lake Lodge on the final night of Fishtrap. I’d since learned that there was a GoFundMe campaign to raise money for expenses not covered by insurance and Medicare, and that there would be this special gathering at Roger Averbeck’s place.

And there I was on Sunday night and it was beautiful. A perfect evening. Perfect Wallowa County potluck feed — with all the basics and a few exotic dishes. And fine music. Even the music had a poignant moment, when Matt rose from a bustling song with a half dozen musicians and, softly strumming his guitar, walked to his dad. Al then sang, slow and low of voice, but in his own voice, “Hush-A-Bye,” a lullaby he’d often sung for Jacey when she was a child.

Not a dry eye. And there shouldn’t have been. But what a way to celebrate a life.

It brought to mind other celebrations of other lives, some of them sealed in my memory for a few remarks or a few of the people who showed up to acknowledge a friend/father/sister’s life and contributions to the lives of others. But all of these celebrations happened after the man or woman or child’s passing!

They mostly but not always happened in churches, and sometimes the preacher used the occasion to preach rather than celebrate a life. But people do bravely get up and recite memories that are dear to them and a few others.

Once, we celebrated Gardner Locke’s life at Ferguson Ski Area. He was a driving force in the building of that ski run, and it brought to mind the days and nights many had spent planning, building, and enjoying it. Former students from his time teaching math and science at Joseph High School rose to praise him, and paint another important chapter for those of us who knew him only later. Still, Fergi was exactly the right place. It would have been better only with Gardner there to hear and see it all.

Years and years ago, when Chuck Ackley passed, we had a small celebration inside the OK Theatre. The venue was important because, although some knew Chuck for working with me in the Bookloft or for directing the Chief Joseph Summer Seminar in the early days, we all knew Chuck’s love of the theater. Many of us had seen him and then wife Molly perform a Neil Simon play summer-long at the Joseph Civic Center, and more had seen him in a more recent one-man Clarence Darrow show in this same OK Theatre.

Chuck’s last days were painful and lonely — I made some but not enough visits to his small trailer home outside of Enterprise. How wonderful it would have been to have feted him sometime in those last months with good food and good stories, with memories of his acting and his life, his impacts on his friends in this, his chosen last home ground.

So, cheers to Al Bell, and to the family and friends who brought us together in a wonderful celebration of his life — while he is still with us and enjoying it.