Born: June 3, 1936
Died: October 22, 2010
Survived by his wife Jane, daughter Maria, and son David.
Also survived by hundreds of creative writing students.
I’m proud to be one.
I leave you with my favorite verse from one of Red’s poems, “Walter Mitty.” It illustrates how profoundly he respected the craft of writing, as well as how important was love in his life.
But in the glare of morning light
I sweat to write one crooked line
Sip my cup of sugared tea
And stretch to touch your hand.— Leonard Bird, “Walter Mitty”, River of Lost Souls, Tooth of Time Press, 1977.
Words that I have to say cannot be said,
as I am that mourning dove that then lay dead
so long ago, next to the man in that dirty foxhole. He didn’t know that the bird was me, lying on the ground so lifelessly, my body was burned and the smell was bad. My body wretched in such extreme pain never ever to see this man again. My soul was released. Finally, my soul was released.