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Dallas Wayne
June 3, 2005
Forrest took my place with the Hell Band when I left for Nashville. Over the years we would run into each other. When I would come home to Columbia we'd get together for coffee and catch up & swap gossip. His insight to the world, people and music was always refreshing thought provoking and funny as hell! He was one of those rare people who, the moment you meet them, will change your life for the better and forever and you will never forget. You will be missed, my friend.
Marilyn Cummins
March 24, 2005
This is hard to write, because I still can't believe Forrest is gone. I only knew him for the past four years. In that time, however, I had the pleasure of working with him at MU, looking forward to every one of his refreshing and sometimes ornery columns in the Tribune, watching him play with the Rank Sinatras before the Lyle Lovett concert -- and -- best of all, having the honor of playing with him and him letting me play his custom-cobra-head string bass at a memorable late-night jam session at his house a bit more than a year ago. I called him out of the blue at 9:30 on a Saturday night because a bluegrass duo (two friends of mine from Chicago) wanted a place to jam. Forrest welcomed us over to a magical room, walls covered with a collection of unique instruments that soon echoed with his great voice and playing and encouragement.
The friend who called me Sunday to tell me of his passing reminded me that Forrest (with Brennan) was kind enough to come to a welcome dinner-party for me -- a stranger -- when I came from out East to interview for the job at MU. I remember that now -- we hit it off so well when we discovered we both played bass (and worked as ag journalists), an instant connection.
I happened to see Forrest the Tuesday night before he died -- he looked as happy as I'd ever seen him while we waited in line to see a jazz documentary at the Ragtag Cinema Cafe (only a few days before the basement beneath it caught fire!). I'd left MU months before, and saw him rarely these days. He introduced me to Bernadette, calling her "his lover" with great flourish. He said that he'd always wanted to say that (vs. "girlfriend") -- as the French are comfortable doing, and that I was the first person ever on which he'd tried it. He looked eminently pleased with himself, and so did she.
To Forrest's close friends, to Bernadette, to Brennan who put up with our late-night jam that Saturday -- know that you're in my prayers. Forrest, all I know to do is to keep playing as I think of you, to listen to your Perfect Stranger CD, to write the truth and my truth in my work as a journalist, and to be the best parent I can be to my only son, as you were to your son.
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