And so it came to pass, my friend, Val Huther Hufft, moved from this world into the next. He left behind friends and family who loved and cared for him. I was fortunate enough to be asked to pen and deliver a eulogy for him at the service on January 5th, 2010. It is my pleasure to present the text of that tribute...
The character, “Maximus”, said in the movie Gladiator, “I knew a man who once said, "Death smiles at us all - all a man can do is smile back."
What can I say about Val that most of us don’t know already? He was opinionated, hard–headed, he walked his own path that most of his friends followed with him rather than walk away. He was not afraid to walk that path, no matter what the consequences or results. For that, I always admired him.
He brought me to several things that held our friendship together over the time and the miles. When in the music business, he always managed to come to the shows I was working and listen to the bands. We also went to the big shows, saw other bands and found the weirdest music we could find, (and no, that wasn’t Roulette). When I moved to San Antonio, I remember calling him every time I’d find a new release by one of the bands we enjoyed. And he was always introducing new, esoteric bands to the mix. Knowing how important it was to him, I sent compilations of music on CD to him when he was going back and forth from North LA after Katrina. Music was a tie that bound us, and others to him.
He brought me to several things that held our friendship together over the time and the miles. When in the music business, he always managed to come to the shows I was working and listen to the bands. We also went to the big shows, saw other bands and found the weirdest music we could find, (and no, that wasn’t Roulette). When I moved to San Antonio, I remember calling him every time I’d find a new release by one of the bands we enjoyed. And he was always introducing new, esoteric bands to the mix. Knowing how important it was to him, I sent compilations of music on CD to him when he was going back and forth from North LA after Katrina. Music was a tie that bound us, and others to him.
And who could forget the poker games? I’m glad I couldn’t participate on a regular basis, as I’d more than likely be totally broke. A self-admitted horrible player, I could only sit and watch for most. But the ritual of the games themselves was “Val-induced”. You could always count on the drink on a coaster and ashtray in perfect placement with cigarettes and lighter. These were almost items of luck. The names of the games themselves were interesting enough. Bouray, Ten-em, Day Baseball; we could have an entire conversation about the correct spelling of Ten-um. Was it Ten-EM or Ten-THEM? The games were designed to be fun, not to mention profitable.
Val was a strong creature of habit. Again, to him, his path was clear to see and he walked it the way he wanted; from simply the times that he would allow himself to talk on the phone, to his amazing work ethic. From Delight Distributing to AMA Distributing, his work was as paramount to his life as his recreation. No matter how late the night, he was always present and accounted for the following day. I always admired that trait in Val. I guess it was because it took so long for me to develop anything close to it.
I remember when he and Joe were at Delight Distributing. Val was a buyer and Joe was the warehouse manager. I was in need of work and they hired me as a warehouse worker. It was hard work. Of course, Joe and Val, being the practical jokers that they were, managed to put me in the worst positions of the job. After an extended period in the fittingly named, cold storage order department, I called it a day. All they could do is laugh, knowing well from the start that I could never stand an extended stay in the world of manual labor. I definitely learned my lesson.
One of the funniest moments that I can remember with Val wasn’t so funny at the time. It was a very cold January night in the 80’s. We had gone to Maxwell’s, our favorite haunt at Conti & Burgundy in the Quarter. There may have been some other stops, but I think that it involved some drinking. It was raining when we started for home and somehow I thought that he was in better shape than I to drive my 1972 340 Duster to Harahan. With the music and the spirits, I fell half asleep on the ride. I fully woke when I felt cold water on my feet and the engine revving. Val had dumped us in the ditch at Clearview and Jefferson Hwy and was trying to back out. Unfortunately, it sucked water into the carburetor and killed the engine.
Now this looks bad, but it gets better. Cell phones were not around, and neither was anything else at that corner, as it is now. We had to walk… in the freezing rain… to the 7-11 at Dodge and Jefferson Hwy. That was the easy part. It was 3AM and we had to call my Dad to get us out of this mess. As he always has done, Dad came down and met the wrecker he called and had them bring the Duster to the house on Colonial Club. Then he dropped Val at home and brought me home, both of us with our tails between our legs.
Now the fun begins. The next morning, at about 9AM, Dad woke me up and said, “Time to go to work”. He made me call Val and put us both in the driveway with the Duster. We had to pull the seats and carpets to dry. Then, remove the hood and pull the spark plugs. With Val on one side of the front end and me on the other, he turned the engine over and all the water and oil and grudge came shooting out of the cylinder heads and all over us. We had to be two of the most disgusting looking guys in the world. And all we could do is stand there and laugh.
My Dad looked at us and grinned, saying “I don’t know what you two are grinning about. Put it all back together now”. And he walked back inside. Not one of our better escapades.
But Val was indeed unique. From his unmistakably funny, “Like ya know Man” to his participation in our own Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie watching nights. And what could you expect from the man who introduced us to Mid South Wrestling and the antics of Skandar Akbar and Mr. Wrestling II. From the time in high school that we double dated with each other’s ex-girlfriend, to the nightclubs and the trips to Ft. Walton Beach; you were one of a kind. I’ll miss you, my friend.
Val was a strong creature of habit. Again, to him, his path was clear to see and he walked it the way he wanted; from simply the times that he would allow himself to talk on the phone, to his amazing work ethic. From Delight Distributing to AMA Distributing, his work was as paramount to his life as his recreation. No matter how late the night, he was always present and accounted for the following day. I always admired that trait in Val. I guess it was because it took so long for me to develop anything close to it.
I remember when he and Joe were at Delight Distributing. Val was a buyer and Joe was the warehouse manager. I was in need of work and they hired me as a warehouse worker. It was hard work. Of course, Joe and Val, being the practical jokers that they were, managed to put me in the worst positions of the job. After an extended period in the fittingly named, cold storage order department, I called it a day. All they could do is laugh, knowing well from the start that I could never stand an extended stay in the world of manual labor. I definitely learned my lesson.
One of the funniest moments that I can remember with Val wasn’t so funny at the time. It was a very cold January night in the 80’s. We had gone to Maxwell’s, our favorite haunt at Conti & Burgundy in the Quarter. There may have been some other stops, but I think that it involved some drinking. It was raining when we started for home and somehow I thought that he was in better shape than I to drive my 1972 340 Duster to Harahan. With the music and the spirits, I fell half asleep on the ride. I fully woke when I felt cold water on my feet and the engine revving. Val had dumped us in the ditch at Clearview and Jefferson Hwy and was trying to back out. Unfortunately, it sucked water into the carburetor and killed the engine.
Now this looks bad, but it gets better. Cell phones were not around, and neither was anything else at that corner, as it is now. We had to walk… in the freezing rain… to the 7-11 at Dodge and Jefferson Hwy. That was the easy part. It was 3AM and we had to call my Dad to get us out of this mess. As he always has done, Dad came down and met the wrecker he called and had them bring the Duster to the house on Colonial Club. Then he dropped Val at home and brought me home, both of us with our tails between our legs.
Now the fun begins. The next morning, at about 9AM, Dad woke me up and said, “Time to go to work”. He made me call Val and put us both in the driveway with the Duster. We had to pull the seats and carpets to dry. Then, remove the hood and pull the spark plugs. With Val on one side of the front end and me on the other, he turned the engine over and all the water and oil and grudge came shooting out of the cylinder heads and all over us. We had to be two of the most disgusting looking guys in the world. And all we could do is stand there and laugh.
My Dad looked at us and grinned, saying “I don’t know what you two are grinning about. Put it all back together now”. And he walked back inside. Not one of our better escapades.
But Val was indeed unique. From his unmistakably funny, “Like ya know Man” to his participation in our own Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie watching nights. And what could you expect from the man who introduced us to Mid South Wrestling and the antics of Skandar Akbar and Mr. Wrestling II. From the time in high school that we double dated with each other’s ex-girlfriend, to the nightclubs and the trips to Ft. Walton Beach; you were one of a kind. I’ll miss you, my friend.
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
From "Death" by Khalil Gibran
And with that, another chapter closes on life. For none of us have the option of "Time Stands Still"; all we can do when our call comes is to "Exit - Stage Left". Thanks, my friend, for making the stay a bit more interesting and a Hell of a lot more fun. Give my Pierce a big hug and talk to him about Jeff Beck. You'll be surprised how much he knows...
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