Yet Another

Sixty-four, while maybe not young, is not old either.  First email I read this morning brought me the news of another death.  Nancy Backstrom was a wonderful artist and a superb teacher.  I meet her approx. 15 years ago when she began teaching at Studio One, where I worked.  She was a quiet, kind soul who lived an examined life and she brought all of this to everything she did. A feeling of calm and peace flowed with her - when she walked into a room - the air changed.  You felt more relaxed.  I saw (and felt) this happen many, many times over the years; whether it was a classroom, a staff meeting or my office.  She was a 10 year post diagnoses cancer survivor - no that's not quite right.  She did more than survive; she took the measure of this experience and created another layer to draw on.  During her treatment, cancer did not define her; it was an addendum only. 

When she spoke to you, her eyes meet yours first.  There was a concentration about her gaze that included all of me.  Covering up how I was feeling was never an option with her; when she asked, “How are you?” it was not a social nicety, but a real question meant to have a real answer.  Engagement in the moment, in people, in the issues was her social contract with the world and she did not default on it. 

Nancy loved to problem solve and I think we solved all the ills of the world over the years in my office.  “If only” often started and ended each conversation.  Part of my job was canceling classes when they did not have enough students to cover the basic cost.  A few years ago, her class was one student short of making the cut off.  Nancy came to me with a proposition her students made; they would each pay a little more to make up the difference.  Many of her students took classes from her for years and not having that class would leave a hole in their life.  Now, as a city facility, with a published price for this class, I could not charge people more for this course.  Nancy said, “What if we enroll “someone” and then that “someone” just never showed up?”  I said "give me a registration form and payment for “Someone” and the class will be a go."  An hour later I received a registration form and payment for Beautiful Backstrom.  Beautiful was her cat.  Problem solved.

I had not seen Nancy very much since I changed jobs, but through happenstance, I was at Studio One on July 30^th and I hung around long enough for the evening teachers to arrive.  She came through the door, as usual, loaded down with stuff for her class.  That night it was a simple and elegant bouquet of flowers for a still life set up.   The look of recognition spread from wide eyes to a wider smile.  She hurried to empty her arms so we could hug.  The scent of flowers clung to her clothes. 

In all the sadness, I feel a little pocket of happy because that was my last, most current memory of Nancy Backstrom, person extraordinaire and friend.