dontravis.com blog post #477
Today, I don’t want to post a story, or
cite from a novel, or talk about the wonderful state of New Mexico. I want to tell
you about a friend and fellow writer. Dr. J. Stanley Rhine was a retired
University of New Mexico professor, whose field was Forensic Anthropology. He
spent a good part of his career traveling the western states visiting archaeological
sites, examining bones to determine how ancient peoples lived and what they
ate. After the notorious riot in the New Mexico State Penitentiary that took
place February 2 and 3 in 1980, he was called in to identify some of the
thirty-three dead inmates, some of whom were horribly mutilated. I cannot help
but believe the experience of viewing “fresh kills” for the purpose of
identification was much more traumatic than examining the dry bones of yester-century,
but given his intensely laid-back personality, I doubt if it raised his
heartbeat an iota. In fact, I could see him become far more animated at
discovering something new from a dusty old bone from the 1700s. Not that he
wasn’t empathetic—he was—but he viewed things as a scientist.
Stan was a standout in a crowd. Tall and
wiry, he stood ramrod straight with a shock of white hair worn in the Mark
Twain style and a thick white Samuel Clements mustache and was instantly
identifiable. He spoke in a soft, low voice that required close attention to
keep from losing what he was saying… and usually when he spoke, what he said
was worth understanding and retaining. He wrote in a similar manner, a tight,
small, cramped hand that almost required a magnifying glass to read. In fact,
he belonged to a luncheon group of writers who completed the meal with a series
of round robin stories (where each member adds a sentence or thought and passes
the story to the next reader for like treatment), and one of our members
sometimes carried just such a glass to read Stan’s contribution. Stan
unfailingly added a moment of wit to each such story.
Retired, he maintained an office at UNM
where he wrote short stories with clever O. Henry twists. I often told him he
spent seven hundred words just to deliver a ten-word surprise. He was a perfect
blend of wit and wisdom.
A member of our Wordwrights Writing Group that
met for years at the North Domingo Multicultural Center, Stan wrote
authoritative articles on Western railroads and published two volumes of his
short stories, Talking Dogs, Singing Mice and Other Shaggy Dog Stories and
An Omnium Gatherum (both available on Amazon). The titles are a perfect
expression of Stan’s complexity.
Part of that complexity is demonstrated by
the fact that while he was quite loquacious when speaking of other people and
their efforts, few among the group of around forty people or so who attended
our Wordwrights class knew little about his personal life, he held those
details close. His instructions for his own disposal after death were typical:
No funeral, no memorial service, no nothing. But everyone… and I mean everyone
liked and respected Stan Rhine.
Tragically, Stan suffered a fall on
Wednesday, December 9, which resulted in a skull fracture. Other problems developed,
and Stan passed away in the morning hours of Sunday the 13th. According to his
wife Sue, he was sedated and in no pain.
He will be missed by all who knew and
loved him. Our thoughts and prayers are with Sue and his family. Rest in Peace,
Stan.
A further note. This identical lament is
posted in the Mark Wildyr blog as we both knew, respected, and loved Stan.
The usual jumble of links and sources have
been deleted, although I’ve retained the mantra as it is something San agreed
with wholeheartedly.
My
personal links:
Email: don.travis@aol.com.
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter:
@dontravis3
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