I woke up this morning to find my social networking streams full of photos of Shannon Larratt; bearded and serious, monastic and stoic with motivational quotes accompanying them. It’s been two years since he passed away; who he was will, in time, be replaced by who people want him to have been.
Those of us who knew him- who laughed with him, fought with him, spoke to him every day or had spats where we didn’t speak for months- who remember the good, the bad and the ugly of him- have a responsibility to remind the people who are looking for a prophet or a guru that behind it all there was just a dude. A funny, good hearted dude who was as frail and fallible, as strong and as sure as anyone else. Shannon was a man, not a meme.
My memory of Shannon for today is how my friendship with him profoundly affected my wardrobe. I never left a meeting with Shannon Larratt without having at least one t-shirt gifted (or forced upon) to me. Some were funny. Some were bad. Some had his face on them. Some had genitals on them. A lot of them had genitals on them. I’d say “no thanks man, I already have 200 BME shirts” and somehow I’d still end up leaving with a bag stuffed with them.
This photo finds Shannon pleasantly drunk at his house in La Paz, Mexico having one of my Scarwars shirts forced on him. That BMEFest- 2005- was hands down the best BME event I ever attended. It was all smiles, laughter, good times and just one more beer.
It’s been a strange trip, but one I’m certainly glad to have been on with him.