Somewhere in my room I still have one of Crad’s chapbooks. I can’t recall the title, but I definitely recall Crad. I saw him regularly, though we rarely spoke. (Did he perhaps attend the wonderful Harbourfront Reader’s Series that Greg Gatenby used to run, and perhaps still runs?).
At the time I was a student at Vic College and walked to and fro daily, between the married students residences on 30/35 Charles Street and Vic, with its wonderful, orangey ice-cream-cone-roofed College. Eventually I ran into Crad and wound up swapping one of my belongings for one of his books. I let him choose which of his writings he gave me. Would that I could remember what I swapped for it… maybe a bike, maybe a book, maybe a loonie or toonie–if they existed at the time. The exchange occurred curbside (of course!), sometime during the late 1980s or early 1990s.
I do not recall the title of the book, but I do remember that it was accompanied by a gruff, slightly annoying comment; like “how would I know what you want?” He handed me one at random, which suited me fine. It was an intriguing interaction.
Wherever he now is, or isn’t, I hope he’s happy. Or at least… not unhappy.
RIP Crad.
