A passing ...

When I was 11 or 12 years old, an artist named Helen Charters was teaching phys ed here in Saint John at the same school as my dad, and living in a deconsecrated church on Manners Sutton Road.

Well, my dad had to take something to Helen one day during one of our "summer visits", and he thought we'd get a kick out of seeing a church that was now a house. So he took us down to see Helen (and her house). The house was, indeed, very cool -- I can still see the huge dragon kite that was suspended from the twenty-foot-high ceiling.

At age 11, I was a fairly shy, quiet child, and I was a little nervous about meeting new people, particularly friends of my dad's. (Sometimes my sister and I felt a little bit like show-and-tell objects.) But at one point when Helen was describing what she'd done on vacation, she mentioned being in Saratoga, NY. At that point I piped up that I knew they had horse races there. A few moments later, Helen excused herself and returned with an orange t-shirt with "Saratoga" written on it, with a racehorse leading the word across the front. She asked if I would like to have it, and I was so stunned and excited that I gave her a HUGE hug.

Although I only saw her once more after that, I can still remember the look of quiet pleasure on her face as I leapt towards her, and the fact that I can still vividly remember that half-hour in her "church-house" in this much detail twenty-five years later is a testament to the kindness, empathy and grace of spirit that Helen embodied. Although in actuality I really didn't know her very well at all, she certainly touched my life in ways that are difficult to describe, and became part of who I am.

Helen moved to live on Grand Manan full-time, where she ran a bed-and-breakfast called Aristotle's Lantern, and taught art classes. I often thought of her when I visited the Island, and hoped to see her again some day. Today, however, I read that she passed away on Friday, and I'm feeling more than just a little sad. I think this world has truly lost someone special. Maybe today is the day I will finally break out those paints I bought ages ago, and give it a little try, in memory of Helen.

I managed to find a small picture of her on the web, and although the Helen in my memory's eye is younger than the Helen in the picture, I think I still would have recognized her if I'd bumped into her on Grand Manan. I wonder if she would have remembered me.

Carpe diem, my friends. Carpe diem, indeed.