Rasta man is gone! Long live Rasta Man!

Well, I guess I had hoped that some day some of the ancient Wefties could be sitting outside of the station sharing tales of past outings, adventures and indiscretions. And that Rasta would have been there to shout "Right ON, Brother!" and offering his hand for a slap of five! It doesn't seem in the cards anymore at least for Rasta's shouting and dancing. A true shame.

I have known of Ra for many a year. Even before my WEFT days when I really got to know him. Before that, I didn't know him personally. But he was a fixture around this town even before he became Chef Ra! I saw him go through the high school jock form, black leather jacketed revolutionary form, the country form, the Rasta Claus (in the middle of summer with skates!) form and his various Chef Ra forms. You always
knew who he was and where he was. He was never shy about letting you know he was there!

And if some where put off by his larger than life persona, many more identified with his joy of life more than a little. Many July 4th parade watchers would look for the WEFT parade float mainly to see Rasta doing his outrageous thing in front of and all around our parade entry. I was truly disappointed when he finally decided that he could not continue to perform in the mid-day sun like the proverbial "mad dogs and
englishmen!" I knew then that a tradition was passing. And now the man has passed as well. A sad time for sure.

But I figure that he would not like us to spend too much time mourning his passing. I think he would rather we put on some good reggae tunes and pass a spliff, if it is our nature, or a bottle of our favorite brew and sing a song of his life. And most of all not to let the revolution die. Not the fighting in the streets revolution, but the revolution
inside ourselves. The one that makes all those pretty, positive and optimistic lyrics to all those songs we listen to and sing actually come true.

Our Rasta man is gone!
Long live the Rasta Man!

Later - Edli B'n Hadd