Eileen and John Sherwood

When I think about Doug, there are two times that spring to

my mind and which seem to “capture his essence”.

The first is the first time I met Doug. I had just started
dating my husband and he had talked about his grandfather’s
cabin near the Black River. I had moved to St. Louis more
than 10 years before, but had never gotten out of St. Louis
County. I was eager to see what else there was of Missouri.
John and I started out early in the morning in his little red
pick up for what was to be a 5 hour excursion. We got to
Lesterville via every two-lane dirt road and low water bridge
that John knew. We had a soda and a sandwich, walked
around the property and down to the creek-after 30 minutes
we had seen it all. Then John casually said “Hey, let’s go see
if Bonnie and Doug are home. He’s the local blacksmith.” The
next thing I knew we pulled up in their yard, Doug came out
and we all began that male-bonding exercise of holding down
a pick up while staring into its empty bed. After brief
introductions Doug’s first question was “Are you serious about
this guy?” Leave the chit chat to somebody else-Doug’s going
for the bottom line. I must have held my own, because time
slipped away, wine was opened and dinner in Farmington was
arranged. I totally missed my “curfew” at home but when
Doug’s having a party—and it’s always a party—nobody
wants to leave.

The second occasion was a BAM meeting at Doug’s shop.
He always wanted to host in the summer, and every meeting
would end up at the river. At the end of the day, everybody
was hot and/or grimy from the forge, (and just being in
Lesterville in July). We all piled coolers onto the back of
his flat bed truck, climbed aboard and bounced down to
the river. We waded in, beers in hand, to watch the
end-of-the-day tourists floating by. I don’t know if the
discussion had started as an art lesson at the forge or
if the “usual suspects” were just enjoying themselves,
but there we all were, chest deep in the river, having a
passionate conversation about transmogrification as
religious precept and its applications to the art of
blacksmithing. I vividly remember looking around:
I saw grey beards, ponytails, bald heads, bandanas,
overalls and beers. I thought to myself “Is this a great
organization, or what!”

There will never be another Doug, but he’ll live on in
the stories we tell each other and our children.

We’ll miss you terribly, Doug!