Guy MUELLER Mueller

Happy BD Tom. Hope everything goes well in your next trip around the sun.

In the summer of 1965, my family and I moved to Cedar Rapids, and even though I was a nobody in school and an unknown in the neighborhood, which is to say I didn't know a soul, Ralph welcomed me. We carpooled to HS together, we played football together—he on the field and I on the bench, we sang together, we hung out and fooled around together, and from washing windows at Quaker Oats to detasseling corn and baling hay, we shared summer jobs together. But in what now seems like a blink of an eye, our paths led us to different parts of the country and to wives and then families of our own--two fine sons for Ralph and two daughters for me, yet for those few brief years, I felt as though Ralph and I were family, as though he were my brother, the brother I never had. 

In our youth, Ralph and I had some lofty (crazy?) expectations. We were going to aim at northing less than making the world a better place--getting us out of Viet Nam, ending racism, saving the cities, making rivers like the Cedar swimmable again--just for starters.  We had some good debates about what "better" meant, too.

Not surprizingly, it wasn't long before I realized that altering the fate of the planet with respect to its eight billion inhabitants might be a peak well beyond my climbing ability. Just the same, my memory of Ralph reminds me that a little grace now and then is possible, that we can make a difference, even if it’s only face-to-face and one person at a time. I know this is true, because it was Ralph; it was he who shared his grace with me. 

Ralph, my friend, I wish you eternal peace.

--Guy Mueller

In the summer of 1965, my family and I moved to Cedar Rapids, and even though I was a nobody in school and an unknown in the neighborhood, which is to say I didn't know a soul, Ralph welcomed me. We carpooled to HS together, we played football together—he on the field and I on the bench, we sang together, we hung out and fooled around together, and from washing windows at Quaker Oats to detasseling and corn and baling hay, we shared summer jobs together. But in what now seems like a blink of an eye, our paths led us to different parts of the country and to wives and then families of our own--two fine sons for Ralph and two daughters for me, yet for those few brief years, I felt as though Ralph and I were family, as though he were my brother, the brother I never had. 

In our youth, Ralph and I had some lofty (crazy?) expectations. We were going to aim at northing less than making the world a better place--getting us out of Viet Nam, ending racism, saving the cities, making rivers like the Cedar swimmable again--just for starters.  We had some good debates about what "better" meant, too.

Not surprizingly, it wasn't long before I realized that altering the fate of the planet with respect to its eight billion inhabitants might be a peak well beyond my climbing ability. Just the same, my memory of Ralph reminds me that a little grace now and then is possible, that we can make a difference, even if it’s only face-to-face and one person at a time. I know this is true, because it was Ralph; it was he who shared his grace with me. 

Ralph, my friend, I wish you eternal peace.

--Guy Mueller

Posted on: Dec 29, 2022 at 5:14 PM

RF--Bonnie James says that you are a "pretty good" poet. Would it be possible to share a few of your lines with me or, if they are published, let me know how/where to obtain them? Thanks.

I am so sorry to hear of his passing. Bruce was a kind friend to me when I was a new kid in town. 

Happy BD dude. 73 is getting to be a large number. I'll catch up with you soon.

Posted on: Jul 29, 2019 at 4:33 AM

Posted on: Apr 18, 2017 at 7:22 PM

I have been notified of your upcoming BD, so may it be totally happy!