White Case Memorial

Ernie was the centre of our little Pub. No, he was the source of it. No matter how quiet things were, he was always there keeping the fire going and tending the figurative bar. People came and went, others passed through when they could, but Ernie was always there. He was full of encouragement and little stories, and always had observations to share about writing and life in general. He was gentle, he didn't judge and on a few occasions, just when I thought I had him pegged, he'd come out with something surprising in his own understated way which belied a depth that hid behind his modesty.

I can't say I knew him well, only as well as you can know anyone in internet groups like ours, so I don't know if the Ernie I knew is the same Ernie that his "real life" friends and family knew. But this is the Ernie I knew and he'll be missed.

Write on, my friend. Write on.