Nestor Perala, one of the great, great characters of SE PDX, has died. He was 84. Nestor and I knew each other for 25 or more years; he was one of the first friends I met in Portland, at the Gnostic meetings he'd hold at his gorgeous old house on Market Street (that I secretly coveted--I hope whoever has that house knows how lucky they are).
Later he'd come to the cafe John and I owned. We'd run into each other in some of the most improbable places and were never very surprised. He officiated at my first disastrous wedding (and we forgot to pay him!). We were involved in the Church of All Worlds together.
And at the end, we saw each other regularly at Wy'East Unitarian, where we were not at all surprised we'd both ended up. His daughter Christi said to us once at church, "So the Pagans have converted!" and we both said at the same time, "Not at all!" and smiled broadly over the pews at each other when the first hymn turned out to be a paen to the Goddess--probably the most Pagan hymn in the hymnal.
That kind of stuff happened around Nestor all the time. He was one of the people who was out there keeping Portland weird for a very long time. Now it's up to the rest of us.
We were not close friends, but we were good friends. Nestor, I will miss you. Have a good rest, dear.
