- And I have the honor and privilege to do a reading by Spencer Travis, who is a young man on the shore here.

Well, he's a father of three now, but he was a kid when I met him.

But we lost a very treasured friend about a month ago on the shore, Frank Russell.

And he was just this wonderful character and really was reminiscent of real old Cape Charles.

And he was a great musician and he had some misfortunes with his health.

So he had some things that kind of slowed him down a bit.

But he remained active, did a lot of crossword puzzles and still played music when he could.

And he certainly changed my life right away.

When Chris and I moved here, I met him.

He had a furniture store and he invited me right... I saw he had a guitar and I said, "Oh, you play guitar?"

And he's like, "Yeah, you play it."

I said, "I just cord bang along."

"Come play with me at the museum Saturday.

I got a big gig at the shrimp ball.

"I was like," Okay.

"So he was just that kind of guy.

He was a wonderful man.

And so Spencer, his brother, Nathan, played music with Frank for many years, kind of worshiped at his feet.

There was an age difference.

He was a younger guy at the time, Nathan.

And so both Nathan and Spencer individually wrote beautiful memories of Frank that were written, I mean read at the graveside service.

And I encouraged... Spencer's totally touched me especially.

They both did, but Spencer captured the essence of Frank and the love that he shared with him and felt up toward him.

So he couldn't be here tonight, Spencer.

So he let me read this to you.

So I'm going to put these on.

Hey, way out east, there was a fella, a fellow I want to tell you about, a fellow by the name of Frankie Russell, Mr.

Russell.

We all called him Freshwater.

There's a lot to tell about Freshwater, but let's just say he was refreshing, like a glass of fresh water.

He would open up your morning with his Ray-Bans cocked up.

He'd roll up, park on the wrong side of the street, window down, music flowing, pop the car door, shaking his head, thinking to himself, "How did they do that?"

He'd say, "Who is that?

I'll tell you who, and I don't know how."

Then directly into the crossword from this morning.

"Okay, get this.

Seven letters, here's the clue.

Musical agreement, sweet sounds, pleasing combinations.

I'll tell you.

Harmony.

That one was easy.

But then guess what they did?

"And on it would go, flowing effortlessly.

He was harmonious with his world, with his environment, with his surroundings, in the way he walked the world.

Shoreline for oysters in the winter, freshwater fish in the spring, songs and cigarettes in the summer.

And come fall, we were all having a ball.

He was perfect.

Sometimes there's a man.

Well, he's the man for his time and it's time and place.

He fits right in there and that's freshwater in Cape Charles.

And I will miss his brain and watching it work so unique and brilliant.

We could just flow back and forth for hours when I had the time.

It was easy.

This is hard.

Hard to say goodbye.

Goodbye to this well of entertainment, this well of times gone by, this well of musical perpetuation, this well of personal knowledge only he possessed for he lived it.

This well is fresh, baby, fresh water.

I had my last drink from the well just a few days before it dried up and it was wonderful.

I will miss my friend, a friend to the world he was.

He was pure, pure fresh water.

Thank you.

And thank you and thank you freshwater, Frank.