A Different Kind of Perfection

Yesterday, Adrianne and I went out to one of favorite little coffee shops to have breakfast and spend the morning working. About an hour in, I had this urge to check Instagram, which I rarely do, especially lately. In fact, I haven’t really done much online or on social media since the election — I actually leave my phone home more often than not — but for whatever reason, I stopped doing my Morning Pages and picked up my phone and checked Instagram. The first post I saw was a story from Wesley Verhoeve. It was a photo of my friend Pableaux Johnson with a caption that read, “Rest in peace, Pableaux Johnson. Beloved by so many, a true culture documentarian, and a New Orleans treasure.” I was stunned and, in the moment, I honestly didn’t understand what I was reading. My first instinct was to respond to Wesley with, “Wait what? Pableaux is a friend of ours. What is this news?” Wesley responded, “He passed away. I’m sorry to bring you this news. I discovered it this morning from various other posts.” After a brief search, a story on on nola.com confirmed it with, “Beloved New Orleans photographer, foodie Pableaux Johnson dies after collapse at second line.” I just sat there in stunned silence as I felt my eyes well up with tears. Adrianne looked up and said, “What?” I just held up my phone so that she could see the story. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Is that real? What is that?” She grabbed her phone and began searching for confirmation.
I re-watched Dead Poets Society recently and in learning about Pableaux’s death, I was reminded of the first stanza of this poem which was featured in the film.

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
By Robert Herrick

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
LINKS
Wesley VerhoevePableaux Johnson
Beloved New Orleans photographer, foodie Pableaux Johnson dies after collapse at second line
Red Beans Road Show
Share Your Favorite Memories of Pableaux Johnson
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