redbird cafe

~ In Memorium ~

Glynda Cox 2007
(Photo by Valerie Fremin)

July 22, 1943 - January 20, 2008

When we met on the set of Hank Sinatra’s
archival video shoot in 1988,
she quickly approached me, face beaming,
dark Cherokee eyes flashing,
arms opened wide as wings...

She approached as the mother I had never known-
smiling, welcoming, inviting, accepting, approving,
listening thoughtfully, even critically, to my nascent artist rising;
she nodding, prodding, and often applauding--
later offering homemade pimento cheese and herbal tea
in abundance as my reward;
her approval, quite sufficient.

She, with her fiercely passionate protector
companion in life and in art, adopted me, too,
as one of her own offspring in what would eventually become
a loving litany of chosen children – artists, actors, poets, playwrights,
vagabonds, wanderers, musicians –
often the lonely, life’s castoffs;  some broken, some merely bent,
some running from life’s narrowest places
others crawling toward the broader spaces;
all searching-- 
once misfits--now brilliant lights,
all jewels in her crown today
for having been loved by her.
We became Glynda’s family –
not by blood, not by determination,
but through her love of us, 
filling a distant void, perhaps…

Her own ancestors, she told us, were of strong, resilient DNA.
I saw that their DNA had provided her with fierce determination,
and exquisitely tight pores--ageless skin--
and the heart of a true warrior princess, mother bear.
In the absence of any material abundance,
she as our mother created for us in return for our artistic gifts,
her own unique and profound artistic mementos:
delicately sculpted “walnut babies”--
tiny hand-hewn images of herself and her ebullient partner.
She even gave us one for each of our pets –
Wally, the dog that we adopted from Town Lake Animal Shelter,
and Walter, our incorrigible black cat
named for one of Austin’s most beloved musicians –
Walter Hyatt.

One lean Christmas, after the close of Chicago House,
she worked for days with meager bits of clay,
baking them in the electric oven used to heat their living space;
she fashioned us a miniature Christmas stocking in modeling clay
to hang upon our tree –
a memento of the release of my album, Crayons 1995.
Glynda had taken tiny toys she bought at thrift stores and yard sales –
once again, other’s cast offs –
filling the tiny clay stocking with lollipops and baby dolls,
candy canes and necklaces, and finally, a teeny tiny box of Crayola crayons
surrounded by streams of multi-colored curling ribbon
 that spilled down for miles in lovingly tendered cascades.
This was among her finest artistic achievements,
a masterpiece we hang proudly every year – a living testament
to her innate talent, artistic eye, and giving soul.

With her gift of abundant love, Glynda provided us with the tools we needed

to become what we each believed we were destined to be.
And in the end she enlarged her own family to accommodate us –
the ones she chose for herself;
as she became mother to many,
and grandmother to a multitude.
Her legacy is now each of us, all of us gathered here today,
and those who couldn’t be here with us.
Golden birth mark upon her cheek –
the heart itself, emblem of her love and of her loving;
the heart of the warrior princes --
the one who gave freely to everyone.

May we now go and do likewise for one another

in her memory.

--© Betty Elders 
February 10, 2008


When the heart breaks
All the friends in the world
Are lost in the vastness of pain
And the most familiar places are lonely

 When friends part
All the words that have gone before
Are pebbles in the stream of emotion
And a part of each begins to die

 When death comes
All the friends and lovers
Are gathered in the last fading light of a life

And in mourning are reborn

© 2008 Stephen G. Nagle


i went back to chicago house

i went back to chicago house
but there was no chicago house
(it has now become another Austin college bar)
and i dreamed i saw no ghosts
just a double story bluestone
with so many stories wrapped up to go
i did not go back inside/where once
OHenry played Gilbert and Sullivan
that was before my time/like all the stories of young Austin
as she was growing up in redneck lands
i sat down at a coffee shop/where poetry was popular
reminesced about the good times we had had
when i thought of glynda cox
(she was no longer with us)
i realized how little i knew of her-
just a smile and welcome/an open mike awaiting
every weekly night just second stories high
now back in another austin-all those voices she was birthing
are stars and luminaries in our  opened eyes
i will not look back for glynda-i will look UP! forever
where she still shines...

--FOR GLYNDA - Feb 9, 2008
© Thom the World Poet

there is no god
there is no chicago house
there is no longer a glynda cox
perhaps once there were gods
there was most certainly a chicago house
and there was certainly a glynda cox
now there are poets,musicians,actors,comedians-
all born at sixth and trinity on nights of open nests
where circles of welcomeness allowed growth and life
grew exponentially.all causes are known by their effects
glynda is remembered for her role in opening us
to the possibilities that life would continue after chicago house-
as she did for some time.Her legacy is us-we who grew under her wing
and stretched out to fly away when our nest closed down
Hey you birds! buzzards grackles pigeons!
Hey you bluejays sparrows cardinals!
You all have wings now-
but you had to learn to fly somewhere
and that was where peggy and glynda came in-
they gave us wings
now we must fly with them...

© Thom the World Poet
Memorial 4pm JOVITAS Feb 10,2008


you and Peggy opened us
(a liitle village of silences)
dramatically,musically,you made a WE
out of individualities

poets made a pilgrimage
to your sweet Chicago House
Nirvana was your open mike
10 minutes of Paradise

plays ,one-person performances
traveling shows,comedy
luminaries made from common clay
made Austin sparkle today

musicians learned they gained a name
when Chicago House added to their flame
and who gave most? gave longest? best?
Peggy Miller/Glynda Cox/our volunteers..

what was once is now no more
that is why we remind you of her

Betty's poetry chap book "Comfort & Trust" available now on our Catalog page!
Coming soon--"Not Yet Dark"

Comfort & Trust



Don't worry about groceries;

I am the True Bread.

--© 29 AD Living Waters

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