Edward Carroll
1951 - 2007

Tribute from Gail Glaze
May 4, 2007

While riding on a train goin west
I fell asleep for to take my rest.
I dreamed a dream that made me sad,
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had.

With half-damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon,
Where we together weathered many a storm,
Laughin and singin til the early hours of morn.

Dear Ed,

You probably don't remember, but it was you who gave me the nickname, "Bubbles."

And the first time we saw each other second year at Weyburn was in an elevator. Alone, we stood next to each other. As always, given our height difference, you looked down at me.

"You've got a hair nestled," you said.

Confused, I meekly asked, "What?"
You simply repeated, "You ve got a hair nestled."

Having arrived at the 8th floor, you got out. As I continued up, I looked down and saw a strand of my hair had fallen between my breasts.

A car full of us coming back from Altadena on that orange barrel, you negotiated the freeways with such calm confidence.

I always admired your self-possession. There was that night on the 8th floor when Dr. John stood in a doorway addressing a gathering of stoned Hydrans inside somebody's room. He singled you out in an accusatory tone, "You don't like me."

You simply shrugged, "You can't like everybody."

It was only after the room erupted into laughter did that gorgeous grin cross your face. Dr. John stormed away. You were what? Nineteen? I was such a mass of fear and uncertainty in those days (and sometimes still), I envied how comfortable you were in your own skin.

Living on Midvale, you told me you were a j(oint) away from school.

Didn't you throw a dart into Paul's knee?

Many years later, the only time we talked about your work, you spoke about your patients with such respect and sympathy.

I've thought of you often when I hear "Cowgirl in the Sand." I'm guessing it'll be every time now.

There's no measuring your importance in my life.

All my love,


I wish, I wish, I wish in vain.
That we could simply be in that room again.
Ten Thousand dollars at the drop of a hat,
I'd give it all gladly if our lives could be like that.