Rev. Don Erickson

Etched by my 7 year-old son months before Fred's Passing The first time I met Fred was at a supper Murray and he hosted for Corey, Holly and I along with the pastoral search committee. It was part of my candidating process. We were a bit nervous. But were quickly put at ease. With Fred, no matter who met him I’d imagine , the first impression was clear and true and lasting . I sensed right away that this is a man of profound goodness, a goodness running as deep as the ocean he loved . It wasn’t peripheral or partial. Goodness was the soil of his soul.   Why did I sense this? Why did so many of you here like me sense this?  Where did that goodness come from?   Well, of course, as a minister, I believe goodness comes straight from G od. Goodness is God’s life at work in us. It’s in us all, as bearers of God’s image in real time. Fred simply had the gift of expressing so well that goodness we all have. He also had the gift bringing out that same goodn...

     Xanadu The Long Island Poetry Collective, 2013:  “The Lighthouse” Turning the pages, intrigued with the subject at hand, she speaks to herself and struggles to decipher the vague ideas. Her pencil scratches across paper. She pushes her glasses to her face. Lately she’s been seeing more clearly through these fog-veiled days. She has surmised manuscripts of the precious and the soluble. She untangles verity from honesty. It astounds through the fog.      Houston Literary Review , Literary Journal, 2010:  “…rage Sale” There, the vented and suppressed sell their release. The failed gather to purchase what they already possess. Children run freely through the market-palace, and learn from the formlessness of formalities. Hand-me- downs are passed down. The children reach down toward clouds into the market-palace of buyers and sellers where as adults they choose to be.   ...