Thanks to Joe Dressner and Ten Bells for organizing Marcel Lapierre's Morgon Memorial last night. It was charged with Marcel and good will, even though clustered in the 10-B den, were friends, enemies, competitors, strangers, antipaths and sociopaths, lechers, lovers, nice folk and sad folk who came together to drink Lapierre, swap memories, hold forth, mourn. Like and wake or shiva, one does not spend the entire time in tears, but there were all sorts of tears coming up about passing of time, death too early, what is immortality and one wine critic tried to bring up natural wine in terms of Hegel, but I had not time to get my Hegel on so, I failed the task miserably and kept on coming back to the somewhat related, Kant.
One thing that was discussed in detail was the meaning of mortality and what is a legacy and how Marcel had one. There are stars in the world, leading men and women, ones that make a difference. You can smell them, see them vibrate. Marcel didn't shout and point and demand attention he was just immediate and beloved. A rare man.
He had a huge impact on the beaujolais and the wine world that I, you and they drink from. The saving of Beaujolais was mostly his heavy lifting in his quiet way, just by making friends who wanted to follow in his path. Simple. They liked his wine. Simple.
His impact will be felt for generations and surely, not only did he leave behind a legacy in the form of a history and children and vineyards and winery but he left behind a legacy of commitment, belief + action changes the world.
Marcel believed in the party and experienced celebration in his own time. He would have liked our gathering @TenBells. And I believe he would have been shocked at how loved he was on this side of the Atlantic.
A tall silver haired multi-lingued man who said his middle name was Pavoratti
said he knew Marcel since 1984 , that beat us all. They met somewhere---not France. Marcel , who was 36 then, offered, come to visit.
The man did with four others, unannounced at 1am. Marcel sticks his head out of the window of his Vielle Morgon house and says, "C'est toi!"He and Marie flop down in their robes and slippers, out came the saucisse, the beaujo and les bon temps did indeed roulée.
Marcel will be buried tomorrow. I am thinking hard about him, people like him, who make life worth living.