The Boston Globe reports the death of Dr. Hugh Morgan Hill. I don’t think many locals imagined that Brother Blue had ever gone by any other name–he had become the spirit of storytelling, keeping traditional tales alive in a lively, street-smart way. I envision him now as one of those beautiful butterflies he wore when he told stories, and I feel sure that he is fluttering in the breezes of southern climes right now, returning north next summer in his new incarnation as the soul of storytelling. His last tale was a love story, told to his wife.
We will miss his broad smile, his warmth, his generosity, and his love of good stories.
http://www.boston.com/news/local/breakin…
Peace to him. I never heard him spin a tale, but there are so many storytellers who go unnoticed in America, and at least Bro. Blue was known enough to show up on this blog in tribute.
Blue was a one-of-a-kind artist. He often put form over function, but never put form over meaning. If “the medium is the message,” Blue was the medium of all media.
His heart was permanently welded to our interconnectedness, with each other and with the universe as a whole.
We can only be inspired by him, and try to be as much ourselves as he was himself.