There’s something I need to say. While I remain dedicated to resisting the above-the-law culture of the incoming administration, and fight it in ways large and small every day, I also believe it’s important to not let the B-words get me down. So this week we’ll be writing about some good stuff- –

 

It’s about time.

 

Darn tooting it is, Lily. Another thing I’ll throw into the mix: this is weekly blog 501.

 

Wait a minute. You’ve been writing a weekly blog for almost ten years?

 

That’s right, 9. And thanks to you and Lily for sharing the load for about half of that time. Now, back to today’s good stuff.

 

It’s the holiday season- –

 

No duh.

Yes, duh.

 

A celebratory time, helpful in keeping those who dwell in the Northern Hemisphere from fixating on the hours of daylight as they telescope into a truncated gloom. I had a very good friend who was especially prone to Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). Around about Halloween she’d start muttering that the sun was going away forever and we were all going to freeze to death.

 

How cheerful.

 

The interesting thing is, Lily, she was, overall, quite cheerful. Also incredibly intelligent, and talented, and compassionate. And I’m sorry to say “was” because she left this Earth in mid-October. I’m talking about my friend and on-stage sister, Theresa Chedoen.

 

 

Wait, I thought we were writing about the good stuff?

 

And we are, 9. Fifty-six years from now you’ll appreciate how much good stuff and how many good people have been in your life, even if they’ve passed on.

It’s not hard to write about Theresa, but her daughter, Genevieve, did a fantastic job capturing both her history and her person in the obit. I feel intimidated sharing my own thoughts and memories. However. . .

The first time we worked together was December, 1992, the premiere production of the Church-Hawley musical adaptation of Charles Dickens’s “A Christmas Carol.” We didn’t have scene work together, as she played Mrs. Cratchit and I played the Charwoman. She had the voice and presence to sing a heart-rending ballad; I was part of a comical quartet.

 

Over the next few years we worked in several productions together, but our performing bond truly jelled when we became part of a “sister act” cowgirl trio. The fateful day was June 30, 2000. Enter: The Schwartz Sisters:

 

 

 

What started as three songs at an open mic evolved into a series of scripted original shows, featuring all kinds of music- -cowboy, country, vintage rock and roll, songs made popular by Marlena Dietrich. Theresa was middle sister, Sallie Jane Schwartz, AKA “the smart one.” She kept the show rolling with her “pianner” playing, also by virtue of having the script in front of her on the music stand, to herd us back in case we lost our place.

 

For the next seven years the three of us met most Wednesday nights, to work on new material but also to talk about the joys and challenges of our real world lives. We did a bit of touring (picture three middle-aged women donning identical Cleopatra wigs and changing into cowgirl costumes in parking garages), and even ran for Rose Hips Kween as part of the Kinetic Skulpture Race in Port Townsend. We were tickled to death to be chosen as Second Prince-Ass, possibly the only group to do so. One December we resolved to dedicate a week to performing at every open mic in town, and threw in a few a cappella carols, curbside, on Water Street.

 

Theresa was a playwright and songwriter, with several shows she co-scripted making it to the stage. She recorded a CD of her original songs, “Illustrated Woman,” in 2005. The piano tracks were played on the Jean Marriott grand piano at Port Townsend High School. It was an all-day recording session, engineered by my late husband, Bruce. I recently forwarded the production files and masters to one of her kids, realizing it was Theresa’s intellectual property and, therefore, part of her estate.

 

Why “Illustrated Woman”? Theresa was fond of tattoos. Her beautifully inked skin included a waterfall cascading down one shoulder which is visible on the cover art. She was also an expert seamstress and costumer, and for decades co-chaired the Home Arts department for the Jefferson County Fair.

 

Life moved on. Post-Schwartz, Theresa earned bachelors and masters degrees in film studies. Before and during Schwartz she raised four wonderful, amazing kids, each of whom embodies her intelligence, creative talents, and compassionate heart.

 

Quite a legacy. In the post-Schwartz years we’d get together a time or two a year, for drinks or coffee or a meal, and would inevitably end up singing a song or two in three part harmony. Theresa was the genius who could patch in any part and make the other two of us sound like we knew what we were doing.

 

That’s a nice remembrance, but it makes me sad.

 

I know, Lily. I’m not even sure that I quite understand she’s gone. But I’m so glad the Schwartz Sisters had an impromptu sing along this past July, tucked away behind a grand old Victorian building in downtown Port Townsend after a round of coffee and cookies. It’s a sweet memory to hold. I had no idea it would be the last. Death always comes as a surprise.

 

It’s a beautiful part of our humanity to remember and honor the people we love who are gone. If we can remember them with warm hearts, and also have the grace to reach out to those who are here in the physical world, the magic of their lives continues.