Greg Forest

February 17, 1952  –  March 18, 2019 

Upon hearing his diagnosis
he responded in typical fashion with the following comment:
“I’ve had 67 years of debauchery—I can’t complain.”

The poster child for youthful excess,
in his prime he could blow perfect smoke rings,
pull the caps off beer bottles with his bare teeth,
ingest heroic doses of whatever substance
he could get his hands on.
By his own admission, he pissed away two fortunes
on toys, travel and generosity to the point of poverty.
In relentless pursuit of beauty, he claimed
he turned countless females into lesbians,
but the women he didn’t chase away
remained bonded to him “against all odds and logic,”
as he liked to say.
A self-taught Biblical scholar and political pundit,
he gleefully dished out offense and aggravation
with his rantings and ravings, but we always forgave him,
this devilish wit machine,
this merry-making maestro of ten thousand gigs.
He was the hub of a vast and ever-expanding wheel
of friendship connections. But now the wheel
has come off the wagon, and how do we go on
without the person who was the most fun to be with?

He would want us to remember:
The good times are here and now.
The good times
are here and now.

One Love to you, dearest Greg.
May you rest in Eternal Jamaica.

– Suzanne Freeman
March 2019