My Friend, Alva Hibbs
A version of this essay was delivered at Al’s memorial on February 12th, 2022
An English Gentleman Living in the West
One happy byproduct of growing older is our tendency to develop a better sense of who we are, and this is the wellspring from which we go into the world and make our lives. This inner knowing grounds us, focuses our energy, and empowers us to leave our unique imprint on the world.
Being in Al's company meant feet firmly planted on solid ground. One could always lean on his complete and total Al-ness. He knew exactly who he was and spent none of his waking hours begrudging or agitating for anything different. For someone like me, this is a powerful force for stability.
A safe haven from which to launch, take risks, and test ideas.
I first made Al’s acquaintance when he barreled out of his home to greet me on the gray afternoon I arrived in Del Norte two Decembers ago. It was the best thing you can imagine. I was hooked. He was brilliant and he was my friend.
Knowing I was in the presence of a truly special person, it was in those original moments that I suddenly missed him. Something tugged at me, a lingering sadness or longing, a sense of ephemeral pressure. A quiet whisper urging, "make use of this time."
Luckily, I had no other friends by which to be distracted. Brand new to town, I was in the right place with the right people. Al Hibbs had all the answers. The porch light was always on. He introduced me to Mark Allison and Mark Allison to Kevin Off. I was riveted by these bizarre and extraordinary individuals. A rocket scientist, an ivy league educated antiques dealer, and an off-kilter artist, builder, and bison rancher. I was learning, entertained, full of hope, surprised, inspired, and possibly home?
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Al was the very definition of predictable and unchanging. We could not have been more different in every way. He was no aesthete and didn’t blink at the carpet in the bathroom. He was above it all, an accessible god, a walking saint, a human encyclopedia. We joked that he didn’t he even want to know the Joneses, let alone keep up with them. And he always swore that he remembered the day he was born. Despite the impossibility, it was Al, so one couldn’t have any doubt.
I believe Al's wisdom was woven with his admiration for women. Unmoved by whims of emotion or domestic servitude, there was no expectation, judgement, or surprise. I was not "this" or "that" kind of woman, I was a person, worthy of respect and admiration. Never small, slighted, or othered.
It was not just that Al never said an unkind word about anyone. Some people are assholes and I find no fault in saying so. It was that he could effortlessly hold dissonant cultural ideas in his mind, which some herald as the definition of true intelligence. A woman was force majeure, giver of life, a source of comfort and beauty, and encouraged to do, be, and say whatever she damn well pleased. At least this is how I chose to see it. After all, he isn't here to say otherwise.
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When Al was sick and slowly slipping away, I struggled to understand the depth of my sadness. We were fresh friends, and Al might be characterized as a difficult person to get close to in the traditional sense of bearing ones soul and being vulnerable and messy. Instead, he forged bonds with his steadiness, his word, his attention, and his curiosity. His affection was nestled inside the willingness to make a cheese plate, tape the Meghan and Harry interview and Elon Musk’s SNL monologue, and watch while mirroring my enthusiasm (a tall order). It was in his knowing assuredness that I would achieve my goals. It was driving me to a haircut when my truck was in the shop. It was my wanting to tell him right away when anything good happened because he would celebrate it, remember every detail, and check-in with me again later.
He gave great advice and was an excellent editor. He loved my work, and I can hardly imagine a bigger compliment. The privilege of Al Hibbs looking over my shoulder, needling my work, and saying I done good, felt damn good. Because I knew I could really believe him.
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Some think I’m a little crazy for how excited I am about this place, this valley, this corner of the world. But it was through the Al Hibbs and Mark Jones lens that I first understood it. I inherited a vision that is more than meets the eye. They knew, felt, and lived the magic.
I adopted their cat, too. He speaks to me.
I fell in love with this place through the tales of those who built lives and legacies here. The living example of the Off's, the Colville's, Mark Allison, Barbara Culp, and Cristi Larsen made me want to be a part of this community. A fascinating cross-section of dynamic leaders who went elsewhere and came back, or who never left. Individual that have dedicated huge amounts of their life and living to Del Norte’s history, art, culture, land, trails, and institutions like the Windsor Hotel.
“The valley draws who she wants…” There is a mysticism here, an otherworldly energy that pulls us in and doesn’t let us look away.
“Fortune favors some and lets the rest go free”.
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It is such an interesting tradition to speak at funerals about the ones who are gone. I tell my story so you know how much he meant to me. But it’s most important for us to tell them while they are still here.
I will never forget my last 7 days with Al. Hallowed, reverent, and strikingly beautiful pain. And such a privilege to hold his hand, stare into his eyes, and tell him of his splendor.
Make sure you don't wait until people are dead to tell them how much you love them. Live your one life like an Irish wake and get all sappy and silly and love on each other. Thank one another for the love that’s given and give yourself some props for being able to accept it.
Here we are, one man down. Now what? We are inspired by his life, but maybe we can realize that we are just as inspiring as he was in our own world. Can you see your leadership, mentorship, and the way you strain your body and mind to support friends and build community?
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Al promised he would be here today and because it’s him, I believe it. Let's raise our glasses to a man many didn't know, but he knew so much it didn't matter. To love, to this community, and to living in a way that makes others cry when you are gone.
Here’s to you, Alva William Hibbs, Jr. P.E.
Rest in Peace, friend. I am richer for knowing you ❤️