1934-2010
RICHMOND George Ball Crawford, 75, of 89 Church Lane, Richmond, died Monday, Jan. 4, at his home.
Born in Montague on Mar. 8, 1934, son of Wallace Boyd and Martha Ball Slifer Crawford, he was educated in Pittsfield Schools and was a graduate of Pittsfield High School and Berkshire Community College. He continued his education at East Coast Aero Tech where he earned an AHE Federal License for repairing aircraft for Pratt & Whitney on fuel systems for the first space vehicles.
A Korean War veteran, he served with the Marine Corps from Apr. 3, 1952 to Apr. 2, 1955.
Mr. Crawford was the owner-operator of the family business, Crawford Service Station on West Housatonic Street, where he began working with his father, Wallace Boyd Crawford, before the elder Mr. Crawford became an attorney and judge, and later served as a State Representative with the Massachusetts legislature.
He was an active member of the Sufi Order at the Abode of the Message in New Lebanon. He was a member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars and a former member of the Masonic Lodge.
Mr. Crawford leaves his wife, the former Patricia Ann White, whom he married Aug. 3, 1957.
Besides his wife, he leaves two daughters, Sandra L. Rowlett and her husband, Kim, of Simi Valley, Cali., and Pamela R. Burno and her husband, Matthew, of Pittsfield; three grandchildren, Aileen P. Burno, Heather C. Burno, and Katherine Crawford.
He was predeceased by a son, Scott W. Crawford, who died in July 2000.
Mahbud—-Thank you! Thank you!
MAHBUD
So many gone now
–no more tears–
Always at your post–
repairing cars,
a smile for a stranger,
a kind word for a friend.
Liberation is justification
for a life of service.
Ya Haqq!!
So many memories about Mahbud , he really was many of the threads of the tapestry of my time at the Abode ..
A “Sufi with dirty hands “, with little judgment en lots of wisdom …
At Mahbud’s Memorial Service at the Abode, I had a startling realization. I realized that I could not remember any of the cars that I had ever taken to Mahbud for repair. The make, or the model, or the color, or any memory of the problem had long since vanished into nothingness.
All that remained was the memory of how I was greeted at Mahbud’s Service Station! I was greeted as if my need to have working transportation was Mahbud’s top-priority. Mahbud’s face would light up, and he would stop whatever he was doing, and he would greet me like a person of importance.
And what better gift can we ever give another person than this?
Thank you, Mahbud, for teaching me Divine Service.
Elizabeth “Elsa” Weber
thank you for all your generous spirit that settled me
into this western sufism and the tears of joy which
i could not have been better supported in understanding
and guidance on this path. my first ride to the Abode
from your station after my long walk from the train. truly a step up. could we love any better from these realms of light?
’til we can again. laugh in the sunshine while you can–
there are still a lot of vehicles in need of repair down
here. i await your steady hearts return. let’s try to land
softer next time. ya hu ya hu ya man hu / ya man
Reza il’lha hu .
11/28/03
To Mahbud
We are desirers,
A caravan of friends in the deserts of life,
Peddling our wares in the marketplace
Of the Beloved –
Our cargo, precious robes of pain,
Embroidered with abandonment, doubt, sorrow.
And what do we desire?
The Dancer will one day
Cast aside her diaphanous veils,
Revealing her radiant nakedness
To our parched greedy eyes.
We will feast on her like suckling babes
And, in an instant
Ugliness, sorrow, hatred
Will become our beautiful children.
Understanding, harvest
Of our suffering,
Will drink deeply and sigh with us
At that banquet of Love
After the marketplace closes.
Kiss my hands beautiful friend,
Sit a while with us, baste us in radiance.
Wrap us in robes of love.
Warm us in the oven of your heart.
Remember us.
Do not imagine you travel there alone.
The haggling will continue
Until all the peddlers and their children have arrived.