Remembering Gene Powers

I originally wrote and published this blog following Gene's death in 2020.

When Gene Powers asked, “How are you?” he really meant it. 

You didn’t have to say, “I’m fine,” or “Pretty good,” if you weren’t those things. You could look directly into those light blue, clear and honest eyes and you could always tell him the truth. And he would listen. 

Gene shouldered your troubles along with you, and he celebrated your victories, wholeheartedly. 

You couldn’t help but like Gene. Hell, you couldn’t help but love him. I don’t know how to express the level of kindness, genuine compassion and friendship that I know he afforded not just me, but so many who knew him.

Over the last few days, I have been overcome by not only my personal grief and my personal loss, but the sheer knowledge and silently understood acknowledgment of the grief of so many who have loved him deeply and loved him hard, not only in Rome, but for those all over the U.S. and overseas, too.

A St. Patrick’s Day to Remember

Because he lived in Ireland for 16 years, Gene always spoke with the slightest trace of brogue. It’s entirely appropriate that we met on St. Patrick’s Day in 2012 .

We met at Old Havana Cigar Bar, and he told me he’d read a blog about celebrating St. Patrick’s Day at Old Havana. I recall that I inquired about it further, and as he explained it, I realized that I had actually written that very blog in March of 2011.

I’d done it as a live-blogging assignment for a featuring writing class at Berry per my journalism concentration. We became instant friends who shared many a pint and conversation at that spot over the years. On St. Patrick’s Day thereafter, I celebrated our friendiversary. 

A Philosopher’s Journey

I truly believe Gene was a natural-born counselor and philosopher, but he just so happened to have earned the degrees to seal it in ink.

For those who didn’t know him (or might not know his history), Gene was born and “raised right” in Savannah, and graduated with a bachelor’s degree in philosophy from UGA in ‘76. Gene obtained his Master’s in Social Work in ‘81. He worked as a therapist and counselor and teacher in Pennsylvania, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and even Hong Kong, where he met the mother of his children.

After a stint in America, the couple moved to Northern Ireland where they raised their three kids, all of whom he was so, so proud (also, he started a baseball league there!! Read about those adventures and more in this 2016 article I wrote that appeared in the Rome News-Tribune.

After he and his wife separated, Gene moved back to Georgia to be close to family. Here, he made many hard and fast friendships and enriched so many lives. He taught at Dalton College and had planned to retire this year. 

A Ten-Fold Novelist

Fueled by his creative energy and philosopher’s soul, Gene began writing what would turn into a series of books. His favorite writing spots included on the levee by the river, Panera Bread, and Old Havana.

The writer in me was envious of how he seemed to churn them out every month, even several a year… but the stories he created carried him like a gale, and he wrote “An Irish-American Philosophical Romance Murder Mystery” series featuring Detective Rory Connor, and later, “The Adventures of Sid, a Ninja-Buddhist Detective.” Like his unique persona, he carved out his own literature genres.

His books are not only inspired by his own life experiences and ideals, but also his family and friends.

'All the Trees of the Field will Clap their Hands'

As I said before, Gene truly cared and he really listened. Whenever I saw him, he always asked directly about my family. You knew you were in a kindred and trusted space with him. Aside from our fun, friend-meet-cute, Gene later established his part another meaningful moment in my life.

On April 23rd, 2016, after my longtime partner and fiance Michael and I protested against Neo-Nazi’s in Rome with the Turn Your Back on Hate organization, we went to celebrate at the bar at Riverdog Outpost, and Gene was there. He asked me how my wedding plans were going, and I explained how frustrated and stressed out I was. 

“Well, you know I’m ordained… I could just marry you both here and then you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore,” he said.

And just like that, Michael and I spontaneously married at Riverdog. Four days later, Gene graciously repeated the ceremony at Old Havana with all the proper paperwork, and this time, we were surrounded by loving friends and fellow-Havana regulars.

In October, Gene very, very graciously officiated the ceremony along with our other dear friend Jeff Lidke for the final time for our family and friends (and with me in the dress and all that jazz). Because of hurricanes impacting the surrounding coastal areas, it was really, really windy during that ceremony, and I will never forget Gene referencing this bit of scripture amid Michael and I saying our vows.

"For you will go out with joy, and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands." Isaiah 55:12

Though Michael and I divorced in 2021, we always share a bond and have been there for each other in situations since our marriage ended. In a way, I think that's a testament to love and friendship that transcends societal norms. And it's something Gene would value tremendously.

Carrying On The Legacy of Gene Powers

Gene was a key part of my most joyous and celebratory days. But he was there for me when my life was not so sunny. He listened to me in times of mental and emotional distress, and supported and prayed for me. He was proud of me, and my writing accomplishments, too. He wanted my writing to flourish.  

My heart aches for those who’ve had similar experiences with Gene. Because we have lost so much more than a friend. We have lost a part of our family. I am grappling with the fact that I won’t ever again see him pull up on his motorcycle and walk in Old Havana, make his way down the line of his biggest fans in his blue plaid button-up shirt, leather vest, that windswept grey hair, those kind, gentle eyes framed in crow’s feet and give me the best hug ever. So much genuine love and companionship were packed into those hugs, he could have trademarked them. What I wouldn’t give for one more.

I’d give so much for one more long conversation in the dim bar thick with cigar and pipe smoke, nursing a pint. I’d give so much for the chance to walk in, see the usual suspects sitting together, and adding a third or fourth table to the mix and all of us enjoying each other’s company with Gene, together. I know I am not alone in these thoughts. I am hyperaware, and pained by the pain others are feeling, too. 

I shoulder those troubles along with mine… and I pray. 

Jesse Kindred and I were talking recently. I told him the weight of Gene’s loss and this grief has left me feeling so very small. Jesse said maybe the key to paving the way forward in a Gene-less world is to try more like him. Jesse is right. 

Gene and the way he lived his life are the very definition of compassion. So I am committed to carrying that forward, and hope you will be as well. Let’s not judge or react harshly, or assume. Let’s listen. Let’s ask how each other are, and mean it, wonder, and really want to know. Let’s foster friendships fueled by sheer love and gratefulness. Let’s carry on his legacy.

“I’ve come to believe that the simplest way to define a higher purpose here on Earth is to show compassion and loving-kindness to every other person we meet.” - Gene Powers, 2016