Jan Thomas - 1963
BIO & Pictures
I am writing this while keeping vigil with my dying elderly cat, trying to learn something, trying to understand that elusive connection between the here and us, and that terrifying and possibly hoped for other. He is just a cat, one of several in my life, but he has shared that life for fourteen years. And death is still death; its power is plenty great even when it takes the small. And a death vigil for one connects me to all the others, and I mourn again for all the beloved lost ones: my father, who did not "go gentle into that good night." My tiny ancient little friend Affa, as frail and withered as my poor little Kin Cat. My beloved Gretel, with whom I hoped and expected to grow peacefully old. My grandmother whose vigil I abandoned to travel with a lover (later spouse). She was my first death, and I averted my gaze from her dying; probably that's why I have never since then been able to walk away from a death. I must keep watch for every one, studying each model, trying to know, trying to love beyond death.
According to legend, someone once asked Sigmund Freud what one needed to learn in order to live a successful life and he replied, with uncharacteristic brevity, "how to work and how to love." I am still a learner in both categories.
For instance, I've done a lot of education (big surprise, huh?). Until my most recent birthday (Yeah, I'm as old as all the rest of you now.) I could still say that I had spent over half of my life, 29 total years, in school. I've learned lots of good stuff, from geometry and physics and how to read poetry to welding and glassblowing, from Christianity and Buddhism and Taoism to radical tolerance. I read voraciously because I can't go myself through all the amazing experiences and thoughts and ways of perceiving life that human beings have written down for my benefit. And, like Frida Kahlo ( One of my heroes. You should see the film if you haven't yet.) I hunger and thirst for life, I am greedy for life. I have a terminal degree--in art that's an MFA. But, as Zorba the Greek says, I still haven't learned why beloved ones die, except, I guess, to make room for more of us.
And I have been unbelievably blessed with people who have loved me. Been married twice, to a poet and to a doctor. Been widowed from a long term love affair with a woman, Gretel Chapman, art historian and inspired teacher, who has been gone for almost seven years. Ten years ago we bought together the Frederick Douglass School, Murphysboro's former segregated black school, and since then my life has consisted mainly of repairing, refurbishing and managing the Douglass School Art Place. The Doug came without plumbing or heating, with very little wiring, most interior walls ripped out, windows broken out and plywooded and a seriously leaking roof.. Amazing the things you can learn to do when adequately motivated. Now the Doug is a place where artists can exhibit, perform, rent studios, garden, blow glass, teach students, and do any other art thing that they can imagine. God knows it doesn't pay much, at least in money. But I am still exploring the possibilities, I have a great studio for glassblowing, and I am still hopeful of the power of art to build community. Gretel's remarkable gift.
Now I am partnered with that good man Cameron Smith whom many of you met at the reunion. He is a wonderfully talented artist--glassblower, ceramist, sculptor--a visionary who can build anything and solve just about any technical problem you can imagine. Watch for our names in the media; any day now we are going to be an overnight success (after forty years or so). And, last but not least, are Cam's children, my second set of step-children: Faylin the dancer/astronomer (age 11) and Avery, the Boy Wizard glassblower (He's 14, and in his fifth season of glassblowing.). They are fun and exasperating and challenging; they are who we are making room for.
So. All of you are invited to visit--southern Illinois is incredibly beautiful, much like northeast Missouri. We'll put you up, feed you at least once or twice, and help you try your hand at glassblowing if you come in season--roughly September-May. Just phone or e-mail first so that we know you'll be here. And I look forward to seeing you all again in 2008. Blessed be.
Charley, this is probably not what you envisioned, but it is where I am at the moment. Use whatever of it you think fit. Thanks very much for your patience with me while I have waded through the opening traumas of 2004. Oh, and thanks again for the music--if it had been vinyl I would have worn it out by now. (Even Avery has been heard singing "in the village, the quiet the village..." and "It's my party and I"ll cry if I want to." You have no idea how remarkable that is; he listens mostly to Sublime and Cake) If you have any other contemporary collections on CD I would love to buy them. I particularly miss Sleepwalk and the Flying Purple People Eaters.
Thanks so much for doing the work, Charley. You enrich all of us.
Love and peace, Jan
