Douglas Elliot Airmet

Douglas Elliot Airmet, 69, a resident of Pocatello was called to write poetry in a higher place on February 6, 2022 and will not be returning from this joyful task.  He was born on June 4, 1952 at Fort Walton Beach, Florida, to Elliot and Norma Airmet. 

His love of the water stemmed from his birthplace and his father’s love of the water.  All his life Doug dreamed of having a sailboat, settling for a Styrofoam Snark Sailboat in his 30’s.  He also lived along a creek, which afforded him the opportunity to “play” in the water and explore the local wilderness.  Doug graduated from Sandia High School in Albuquerque, NM where his family moved when he was 7. 

Doug completed a mission to Germany for The Latter-day Saints Church.  He attended BYU, obtaining a Bachelor’s in Arts as well as a Master’s in Arts with his Thesis “Elder Olson’s Poetics of the Lyric” in 1977.  He continued his studies, receiving a Doctor of Philosophy degree in English from the University of Iowa in 1985, with his dissertation “The Saying,” which utilized his fluency in German.  Listening to James Taylor’s Greatest Hits on repeat provided fuel to complete his work. 

During his higher education years, he was supported by his wife Marie, whom he married in 1974.  They had 5 children together and later divorced.  His time in Iowa was highlighted by several walks along Lilly’s Run and a summer of detasseling corn.  In 1992, he married Donelle with whom he had 2 children.  Doug taught a few semesters of English for Idaho State University, followed by working at the Idaho Nuclear Engineering Laboratory for 29 years.  He began as a technical writer and worked his way up to Cause Analysis Investigator and writer. 

He enjoyed working at the Site as it afforded him lunch walks where few had been and time to read for 4 hours daily on the bus.  Beyond reading, Doug’s hobbies were gardening (he never met a quack grass whose root could beat him), hiking, backpacking, writing and translating poetry, studying philosophy, playing the piano (mastering the intricacies of Baroque trills), listening to all types of music, memorizing flower names and constellations, and teaching his knowledge to his children, wife and others. Doug also enjoyed dancing and was a member of the Contra and Folk dancing groups in Pocatello, as well as dancing country/western at the Green T, where he met Donelle. 

Doug was owner and publisher of the Acid Press, a 10 book, 10 minute Chapbook series that included poems from local writers as well as his own.  Acid Press’s motto was “Memorize It Before It Returns to the State of Nature.”  Doug was never one to take himself seriously as represented by these books, which also included his alter-ego, Doug-Bob, as writer.  One of his poems was selected by the Pocatello Arts Council to be imprinted into a paving stone and is set in downtown Pocatello.  Doug’s favorite saying was “The Key to Adventure is Bad Planning and Poor Equipment.”  Many experienced the truth to this saying where adventures lead to memorable stories.  Doug enjoyed nothing more than helping and pleasing others, with his keen sense of humor and infectious laugh and smile through any trials he faced. 

Doug is survived by his wife, Donelle; seven children, Rebecca, Rachel (Edgar), David, Anna, Sarah, Isaac, and Dylan; eight grandchildren, Sara, Jessie, Ada, Boston, Paisley, Cecilia, Mirabelle, and Viviana; and three siblings, Barbara (Bob), Beverly (Stan), and Wayne (Kathy); along with multiple nieces and nephews.

Cremation has taken place under direction of Wilks Colonial Chapel.  A memorial will be planned this summer per Doug’s wishes to have green surroundings, with a creek and birds as the orchestra, as family celebrate his life.

Anything But Poetry
By Douglas Airmet
Plant false aralia
on a manzanita root
China doll on a rock
Stretch for the tenth
in “Midnight Blues”
or travel ten time zones
to see the moment
of the true full moon.
Toast the hidden face of God
Through all four seasons
Laughing like lunatics.
Lie in the bedroom sun
your muse astride you
sweater unbuttoned
and nothing else–
anything but poetry:
too loose too much too dangerous.

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