Renny Cushing: A Good Life, A Good Man in Bad Times

 

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, 
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, 
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum 
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. 

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead 
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, 
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, 
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 

--WH Auden

We got the news today we all knew was coming, but did not want to hear: Renny Cushing has died.

It does not seem right.

Death often does not seem right, but this man campaigned against death, against the death penalty in New Hampshire. Surely, death would respect that.

I met him only 14 years ago, which in Hampton time is the click of the second hand. Renny had lived his whole life in Hampton, graduated from Winnacunnet, travelled around the country and into Mexico but then came home.

He worked ceaselessly, often a boat beating against the tides, in the New Hampshire legislature, advocating for better health care, better mental health care, pushing against the death penalty even though his own father had been murdered, and by a policeman, at that.

I cannot say I knew him well, but I can say I knew enough of him to see the nobility, the grace, the enormous patience and the fastidious honor of the man.

It's a sad day for Hampton, for all those who knew him.