~ In Memorium ~


(Photo by Valerie Fremin)

GLYNDA COX
1943-2008

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 nodded, prodded, and often applauded,
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 cast offs – 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

https://www.legacy.com/statesman/Obituaries

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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...

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


FOR GLYNDA COX

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
FOR GLYNDA COX YES! JOVITAS Feb 10,2008

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Betty's poetry chap book "Comfort & Trust" available now on our Catalog page!



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NOTE 23

Don't worry about groceries;

I am the True Bread.

--© 29 AD Living Waters
 
Read more "Notes From Above", HERE!

*********************

NOTE  24

Only on earth
doth form prevail over
substance.


--© 29 AD the Bread of Life

Read more "Notes From Above", HERE!

---

Remember...


You don't take a single breath
without Him.
Your heart does not beat once
without His help.
You are His favored part
of all creation.
He's numbered every hair
upon your scalp.
He gives you what you need
each day, and then some.
He's set to catch you 
every time you fall.
If ever you should question
His existence,
His love can even
penetrate that wall.
The power of His love
is meant to linger
billions of years beyond
this world's demise.
And that's how long I hope
you will remember
you are a precious child
in God's eyes.

 -- Nancy Fierstien

  May 2007

***NOTE: All poetry and words shared here at the RedBird Cafe ' ® are shared with (most) all our wonderful authors' permission. ***