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Ray Ventre
even Loved by me,
his smallest acquaintance.
Want the ow to go away, want to 
go to last Thursday,
To see his joy
Again.
Ray was my teacher
On Thursdays, four to six
He taught patterns and continuity
Of the literary past, EN 281.
A big name for the
Enjoyment of
Literature.
He died Wednesday,
The day before Thanksgiving
Two thousand fourteen.
Many are sad,
I too, am
Sad.
Rate my professor
Rated him a four point eight,
Good, even great, but read what 
all students said for him
to know his rank,
to know our loss 
to know our sad.

I was a late addition to Northern Michigan University
I had planned another year at community college, but
a job opened up for my wife in Marquette, so I suddenly needed, two weeks before they started: 
classes, guidance, a mentor, I needed someone to care about a situation they never heard of till now.
Ray Ventre was the head of the English department, Ray cared, he set me up with classes including 281.
A more enjoyable class would be hard to find.
A more enjoyable teacher, impossible.
To find.
The joy he had
The special kind
That never fades, but grows
Like cancer of the heart
Spreading into all 
Who Love
laugh
And live for 
The happiest days.
His heart was
Too large to last.
Goodbye Ray, and thank you for teaching me.

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