Remember me when roses bloom
And Spring returns again–
For I am ever present in your midst
In the dawn and in the wind–
You mustn’t think I’ve gone away for good.
Instead remember me-
The way I was in better days
The way it used to be—-
Remember me as I am now
Alive, at peace, and free—
There is no place for sorrows past
Is just a lost memory—-
For life derives its purest joy
In living day to day—
Follow what I’ve taught you
And remember me, this way…..
Ben Tassinari Memorial 
I cannot begin to imagine how many times in the past year I have thought of Ben….it is such a wonderful thing to have this and the Carepages site to celebrate his memory. I am continually amazed at how many people Ben touched during his life. It serves to remind me that it’s not the number of years on this earth…it’s what we do with them. If I can do half as much good in my lifetime…if I can touch a fraction of the number of people during the course of my entire life…that Ben did during his…it will be a wonderful thing. As I do a lot of driving for my job – I inevitably do a lot of thinking. Many a time during the past year, as I drive through the Catskills…as I sip a cup of local java in my favorite Woodstock cafe….my mind has wandered back to days past…pool in the Tassinari barn…CHS Biology class…mischief at the Spencertown basketball courts…and in my reminicsing, I can clearly see that beaming smile..can clearly hear that infectious laughter….To this day I can still sing the entire verse of “Hey Vern”…composed by Ben and Kelty…and as I reminicse, I am thankful…thankful that I was lucky enough to have Ben touch my life. I will always remember you my friend….
By: Dean Martino on April 14, 2008
at 2:12 am
Though I didn’t know Ben very well myself, I’ve heard many stories over the past year from my fiancé, Hugh Buchan, and Ben’s many friends from Bates and beyond. I learned of Ben’s musical talent and heard his CD of sea shanties. I teach fifth grade on the North Shore of Boston, and each year we do a Whaling & Sailing unit which culminates in a 3-day overnight trip to Mystic Seaport. As part of this large unit, my students learn several sea shanties and perform them for the class. This year I used Ben’s CD and talked to my class about who he was and what he did. Over a month’s time, 4-5 students at a time would be gathered around the CD player, pressing play, rewind, then play again as they listened to Ben’s singing and learned to sing like him. Two months after the end of this unit, I still hear students singing lyrics to themselves and each other while walking to class and playing on the playground, “I’m taking a trip on a government trip 10,000 miles away…” My students got great joy from learning this “new” kind of music, and I loved hearing Ben’s lively voice in my classroom day after day. For years to come, I will use Ben’s voice to teach.
By: Liz Louik on April 14, 2008
at 6:00 pm
I look forward to the CD of sea shanties becoming available.
Miss you Ben.
By: Carl on April 15, 2008
at 11:47 am
Benjo… so much for me there w him and I knew it the moment I met him 7 or 8 mos before he died…He floated through my life in an easy way and the moment I met him I knew my life had changed forever. As it always was already and constantly whether I knew it or not! He brought awareness to that. He was my messenger for that. Synchronization. Talking to God- as in manifesting the God already in our lives and all around us. And the the inexhorable framework of time and the quickness of a life and the transcendent nature of our soul which carries this body briefly. So his memory lives very really and freshly w me- we talk from time to time without talking or thinking even because he is inside of me already. More concretely he has initiated work I do with hospice and a desire to go to graduate school in social work. He has augmented my Buddhist practice by initiating a closer dialogue with death and dying (the real purpose of meditation and the # 1 foundation of Buddhism-that we all die-and sooner than we may comfortably think)–he has forced me to look more candidly at the nature of my perception of reality and find a grounded spot to be quiet. I go to his grave on a regular basis and relive again with changed perceptual freshness all that he connected together for me. So he teaches me that I can relive and change my past too! More? (help! you say) One more– the nature of the pain of suffering physical pain…the one that wears you down and makes you succumb to death finally… the heroic journey that is facing the loss of life and facing the ultimate necessity of letting it completely go. My new thing is that life is the “bouquet”. The thing that exists so subtly between everything else changing- the way the tub drips, memory of a “lost” love, twighlight’s hum, spring’s hard birth and laugh. These things are all over the place all the time. The seeds of love and compassion and freedom and happiness. The fact that Benjo “embodies” this is proof that he is not dead. What a dear love he was and how we miss him so!! Thanks for this opportunity, Beck
By: Beckerman Balken on April 20, 2008
at 5:50 pm
You are still in our thoughts Ben. I look through these pages from time to time when I listen to your music, before I head to sea again. And I am happy to know, that I live in a world full of people touched by you, one which I know it is a better place for that. I see it when I share your music and the stories I have of my time shared with you and others aboard the Tole Mour. I know it when I sing the songs you taught me for my babies lullybyes. They will grow up with those beautiful chanties and they will remember you as well. HR
By: Harold Coller on December 18, 2008
at 9:31 am
I was one in a class of about 30 5th graders that set sail on the Tole Mour. That experience, with him playing the banjo and singing was my best memory from elementary school. I am now in 11th grade at La Jolla High. I was hoping to meet him again (even though he probably wouldn’t remember me) and sing sea chanties… He will be greatly missed!
By: Christopher Theiss on May 13, 2009
at 4:06 am