What kind of person was Edgar?…. 

….. I’m sometimes asked. From my point of view I like to draw a picture of Edgar which essentially characterize him:

Edgar was a strong, unusual and interesting personality – an unique specimen. His asterisk lion became effective into many different regard. With impressing rhetorical abilities he was able to let his thoughts and opinions be heard because communication belonged for him to the most important elements of expressing himself. He represented his point of view always self-assuredly, straight, open and in plain terms. Never ever he talked others after the mouth and he estimated humans, who – like himself - could represent honestly their opinion and didn’t let themselves put off, e.g. by statements of others. People who, like he expresses it, took a pronounced “little Easter bunny – submissive posture” or even trimmed their sails to the wind didn’t mean anything to him.

In his unmistakable kind he provided sometimes for explosive. Partly he gave thereby consciously mental impetus or provoked reactions over which he occasionally grinned quietly. If Edgar got excited to much and went beyond the goal then he didn’t make himself popular, but that was never ever that according to which he strove. He wanted to be heard and gotten attention, scorned however hypocrisy.

The fact that in the proud lion with the intelligent head in the heart was a very sensitive kitten at the same time recognized probably all who liked and loved him and to them he was ready to show the inner man. This internal understanding for his soul shared especially I, Susanne, as well as his best friends, who particularly attached him, too. He expressed his affection and intimate friendship staying in touch warmly and intensively, also in the form of many detailed letters or rather e-mails and his photos.  Edgar was a reliable and helpful friend and partner, who, if necessary, went through hell, and high water for the other to stand up for them. Gladly he stood by with help and advice.

With his dry humour or crazy ideas he could bring others to laugh. He was simply lovable if he disguised himself, e.g. for one day a year, on the middle of summer, as a clown and addressed the people on the road and took pleasure in the reactions. His absentmindedness things like his keys and so on very often to lose or to mislay was likewise a characteristic, which brought to the grin.

Edgar was a very romantic human. He wrote sensitive poems, played gladly with words, formulated song texts, sent encouraging postcards to himself and believed also in things which one could not see like his power place in Montreux or the living on the soul after death. “Nothing is like it seems”, he said sometimes.

It gave things about he could be pleased like a child. He loved trains and

stations already from childhood and it was nice to see if he got shining eyes as a grown-up, too.

Edgar felt very connected to nature. His intensive sporty activities which he,

with discipline, also practised in all weathers enjoyed he therefore primarily in open air. He did not only pay attention to his own environmentally conscious behaviour, but drew also other people’s attention to it, e.g. to turn off the engine if it, after his opinion, was appropriate.

That not all humans of the world shared his self understanding what above all concerned justice and the peace in the world excited him often. Here he loaded himself with very much responsibility, because he had often the feeling not only for the own justice to have to fight, but also for other humans in order to reach an improvement. For a long time he engaged himself, with very much civil courage, in the trade union and in the work council. He had also to fight for his own job over years and showed thereby an admirable perseverance and bite. Since this was a heavy burden to bear at the same time he often wished himself more calmness, but the character of the lion affected him strongly. Perhaps he liked therefore the cows on the pasture so much because they exude such a strong balance and peace?

However, he found also gentle forms to work hard for others if he, e.g. actively supported a charity programme. He was proud of his artistic abilities and donated with joy and much commitment one of his paintings for the benefit of a cancer-ill child. The abstract painting meant not only much for him, it was for Edgar also a very important form of creative expression and the relaxation, as well as releasing all loads which were in his mind. By his contacts, the intensive exchange with other artists and the participation in cooperative projects he felt enriched, because he not only worked productively, but also gladly mentally with the subject, criticized, let be inspire and inspired others.

In his sentence "The soul is the mother of painters" is again reflected his love for the music. He heard music rarely “on the side”, but got real enjoyment out of listening with the whole body. The armchair edge never took it to badly, if he drummed on it during that time. There were times, in which he along-played with his expressive voice or his Bluesharp alone or played in a band. He always participated with full heart blood and shared the enthusiasm also gladly with his friends.

Edgar did not judge humans by social conditions, nationality, skin colour, clothes or something like that. That the character and the wavelength fit were the most important for him.

Why Edgar it, particularly opposite intimate humans, didn’t take it always exactly with the truth, was, perhaps, because of his need after allowance and acknowledgment. On the one hand he needed and looked for love and a home, on the other hand he felt probably too fast locked in a cage. He was a man with corners and edges and it was not always simple with him, but the special and remarkable of him made up for it again. Who could take him in such a way as he was could not help than love him!

Edgar was convinced vegetarian, respected and loved the life, left unforgettable and love-worth footsteps on his way, was endeavours to maintain his health and he would gladly have become 120 years old. The fate intended however something else with him, which we cannot fathom, because the view behind this door is still hidden to us. Perhaps he is just painting his shoes in red with the fingers of his left hand, to give us a wink and to tell us "Hey, don’t worry; you know that I am not only an Indian, but also an extraterrestrial.  Love and peace, keep up the good work, Blues and greetings, yours Lositheed”.

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P.S.

At the beginning I wrote that I would like to draw a picture of Edgar with my words. In the meantime it occurred to me: Many years ago I had a short phase in which I  in pastel-chalk-oils or in pencil made a few drawings. One of the motives was at that time a portrait drawing of Edgar. I had never finished it  because I wanted to improve it "sometime later". But now I leave the picture like it is because the finiteness of time became again painfully conscious to me with Edgar’s death.