Yesterday, New Orleans lost a piece of its soul with the passing of our beloved Ashley Morris. I am so stunned and brokenhearted right now that I'm finding it difficult to find words, but I have to write this now, before the full blow of this painful reality hits me.
Ashley was not just some guy with a blog
. Far from it. From Greg Peters of Suspect Device
Different bloggers take on different roles, sometimes — most of the time — by accident. The NOLA bloggers, rising in response to an unimaginable tragedy, quickly found themselves steering different parts of the beast, if I can mix my metaphors. There’s the head, the brains, the analysts like Oyster & Matt McBride and Tim Ruppert; the soul — poets like Mark Folse, philosophers like Michael Homan — and the guts, the workers like Karen Gadbois and the Zombie.
Ashley was fire. Ashley was the furnace where the rage was forged, where the steam pressure built, where raw anger began its conversion to power and motion.
He was not a one-sided man, by any stretch of the imagination. He was intolerably funny. Talented. A father. All of that. Not an angry person except when driven to it.
Thank you, Ashley, for so much. Thank you for giving our anger a voice
and for standing up for this city and its children whenever anyone dared disparage us
. Thank you for your unfailing love for this place, a love so deep
that when New Orleans was beaten and bloodied, her cries called you home and you answered
, even though it meant commuting to and from Chicago every week to teach y0ur classes. Thank you for making us laugh
. Thank you for helping gut my house
and for bringing me into the fold of the Krewe of Pan
. You were a good man. I am truly honored to have been your friend.
You will always be a part of us. Always. But it just won't be the same here without you.
Rest in peace, Ash.
Ashley leaves behind a wife and three young children. Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers.