Former Martha’s Vineyard Poet Laureate Lee H. McCormack has died

Former Martha’s Vineyard Poet Laureate Lee H. McCormack has died. Born Jan. 20, 1945, he was 75 and lost his fight with pancreatic cancer on April 14, 2020 in the afternoon. MV Times’ freelance writer Holly Nadler kicked off her Close Encounters series in the Community section with a story about having dinner with McCormack in December 2019. He said to Nadler at dinner: “I don’t know what’s on the other side, but ever since I read the ‘Tibetan Book of the Dead’ [written in the 8th century] — I’m convinced this is a conscious process back to pure Source.” 

His brother David McCormack wrote in a Facebook post, “My beloved Brother and Poet Laureate Emeritus of Martha’s Vineyard, Lee H. McCormack, lost his battle with pancreatic cancer this afternoon.

Funeral arrangements by Chapman, Cole & Gleason Funeral Home are not complete, but will be published when available. In the meantime, here is something written by McCormack posted on his Facebook page Feb. 7, 2020: 

February Update On the Cancer Farm — Attack of the Body Snatcher

According to the latest report from highly qualified and well credentialed experts, the cancer farm is doing quite well at this time. The current crops are blossoming on schedule, perhaps even a little sooner than predicted, and the past two weeks have necessitated another increase in pain numbing chemicals which, like fertilizer, make it possible to reap just what you sow, despite any discomfort and adversity.

At times, working on the Cancer Farm seems like a battle. But in this case it is not a battle for the territory of the body, as it is already accepted and the experts agree, that is already lost.

Instead, it is a battle for total possession of the intangible — the mind, the heart, the soul — the things that we hope will remain untouched by the frustrations, the sense of hopelessness, the anxieties and fears amplified by increasing pain as organs are taken hostage, especially awake at night in the dark, alone with this dis-ease in the temporary flesh and bone shelter cherished for so long.

It became obvious to me as I shuffled around in the farm that cancer (or any lingering and fatal disease), wants total possession and complete control, not just of the body, but of the soul, the heart and mind, every feeling, every thought, and every action of a person’s life, until they no longer are, and only cancer exists. This is the cancer people speak of as capital “C”. Fighting against this becomes the real battle that evolves with any lingering and terminal illness.

Having accepted the reality of a physical death with an uncertain but positive sense of charity and inevitability, I was not nearly attuned enough to know just how powerful and insidious cancer would be in its ability to slip past my guard and try to undermine my positive defenses. As pain increased in the last three weeks, so did my weakness in underestimating the negativity creeping into me. Then I saw that this is the real battle to be fought, the only battle that matters, because it is necessary to not let the disease define who and what I am, so I can remain alive and open to life in all its permutations while I am still able.

I understand how and why people succumb to their disease (or serious depression as well), and give up. I have had moments when I asked myself if the fight is worth it in the face of the power of this illness, in the face of what is to come.

And I decided Yes, it is worth it, and necessary. To remain awake and alive, aware and braced internally for the worst. To manage this, I am grateful to my oncological nurse and doctor, who admit they have nothing for me but pain management. And for that I am very grateful, because intense pain makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

So, the deal now is keep on keeping on! Despite the issues of pain, and because of wanting to remain in this beautiful world as long as I am able to function, even if somewhat impaired, it is worth the fight. In terms of longevity, there is nothing to win; in terms of cure, there is nothing. But there is this amazing life, these radiant forms of energy, around me. And the friends who direct their positive energy towards me, friends and family, make the whole thing worthwhile. And I am grateful I am allowed to understand this now — it gives me strength to deal.

As Meister Eckhart said: “If the only prayer we ever said in life was ‘Thank you,’ it would be enough.”