The Guestbook

Dr. Hill,

You've known me since I was a lil tot and I've known you most of my life. I always looked forward to you coming to the Children’s Museum and if I remember correctly it was on Fridays. Well I just wanted to give you my love and tell you thank you for all that you do. It’s been too many years since I’ve seen you and look forward to seeing you on May 8th. I wish I had children so they could experience the teachings of one of the greatest teachers in the world. However, I’m getting married in October so maybe we’ll have a lil tot of our own… We’re in our 30’s so we don’t want to wait too much longer.

Much Love,

Marc Carter Malone

by Rev. Peter Panagore

First Radio Parish Church of America

Maine State House Legislative Opening Prayer 
March 4, 2010

This prayer is an homage to my brilliant teacher, my story teller, Rev. Dr. Hugh Morgan Hill of Cambridge, Massachusetts, a.k.a Brother Blue, who passed on just months ago.

So Let’s Pray,

God, you gots no age, you ain’t young, and you ain’t old,
God, you gots no body -- no woman parts an no man parts,
No fingers no toes; you ain’t blond or brunette, and you ain’t bald.

You bigger than me.
Bigger than all we.
Bigger than stars.
Bigger than ideas.
But you ain’t go no size neither,
And you’s so small you fits right inside of every tiny tiny thing.

You gots me baffled. Whatever you is, is not what I am, but I AM cause you IS.
What is we to make of that?

Folks shouting “it’s a miracle!” -- that baby what got saved from that tree come crashin down inside his daddy’s house, booming into baby’s room, smashin all around that momma’s boy, leavin even twigs tucked inside his nappies, next to his sweet sweet baby’s bottom, during Snowicane that roared tempestuously tearing up Maine – winds howlin to 90, snows falling in feet, folks claimin it’s a baby miracle!

God, you dun saved that baby, but, man o’man, what about them poor folk in Concepcion, Chile, or Port of the Prince, Haiti, where’s their miracle? You gots me baffled.

Why save a little baby boy when you lets thousands go collect their great re-ward? And why let them Wall Street rich make off with our National loot, while letting the mackerel canners go belly up?

Maybe because we gots it wrong. Maybe your finger, if you gots one (which you don’t) ain’t in the stew a’stirring. Maybe it’s up to us to straighten up this mess as best we can. Maybe your love for us be so strong you let us have our way, and maybe you just plain gets out of the way a’nature doing her thing, letting her do what she does best, tossing up storms, shaking the earth, and all that whatnot.

Maybe what you gives us, God, is each other, to figure all this out. Maybe we ain’t really Whigs or Torries, conservatives or liberals, dems or that’s, maybe we all just one people under God, under you, indivisible, working the best we can for the biggest best, for the most folks. If that’s the truth, then we all asks you, steer us, right here, right now, today, in dis place and dis space, and if we argues and pushes back and forth with words, then let it all be for the good, and let the good be done, ‘cause God, we need the help.

Ahhhhhhh and Amen.

Somehow, the news of Brother Blue's passing just got to me tonight, as I sit sleepless at my computer. I'm writing this through tears. My introduction to him came to me, as I would imagine a lot of people, through his incredible performance in Knightriders, a movie that is still near and dear to my heart. As an 11 year old white kid in an affluent, New Jersey suburb, Brother Blue almost came across as an alien, but made quite an impression. I fell in love with the movie, and began to seek out more information on this shamanic man. I learned about his backstory. I learned about how he was using his unique gifts to educate. I learned to appreciate Shakespeare because of him. And other writers too. And storytelling; not as some abstract method, but as a raw and vital trait of humanity since it's dawning. I learned to tell stories myself, and to see the world through different eyes. To seek out other cultures and other ideas. This man, this great and gentle man, has influenced my life in profound ways. I am so sad to hear that he's gone. Rest in peace, Brother Blue. I never met you, but I love you.

It is Ruth who touched my heart when I thought of Blue. I feel she is the embodiment of all he tried to convolutedly say. May she be in peace and not be weighed down by the grieving. I live in California now but have deep Blue moments when he was part of earth day Cambridge that I spent three years workin on. I was with them at the National Stoytelling Festival years ago. I treasure the moments we shared as I drove them around in Tennesee. I wish someone had recorded all the old great street acts of Harvard Square before it was turned into a yawning cavern of unfulfilling mega-commercialism. Blue was one of a few who survived the death of the square by "developers." For me it was not his stories as much as it was his constancy. And, Ruth. Always Ruth. Pure loving Ruth. Bless her more than ever.