Just Like That (Rachel Bissex)

[me, Dar, Reba:  Road Trip to St. Augustine for Dar's March 12, 2020 concert... the day before the world locked down for COVID]

R.I.P. dear friend; I found out about her passing from a post to the sf_folk list a week ago tonight.  The news hit me hard, and I continue to grieve as well as be comforted by the memories.  It is hard to imagine a world without Reba Heyman.  I remembered writing the following to a friend in late-August 2020 and, rather than reinvent the wheel, decided to copy and paste here:

"Before I get in the bath, I wanted to give you some backstory about Reba, and what I was doing today.

I first met Vic and Reba Heyman at the Albuquerque Folk Alliance in February 1999 (my first national conference, if you recall).  Vic and Reba were/are folk royalty.  Based out of Rockville Maryland, they have been on the folk scene for decades, financing many artists' CDs, not to mention careers.  

They are long-time fans of Dar Williams and, when Rachel Bissex passed away in February 2015, they did a tribute double-CD set, and Dar (and Patty Larkin) covered the song Rachel wrote about Vic and Reba, Just Like That.  Confused yet?

So, back to the Folk Alliance.  I crossed paths with Vic and Reba a handful of times; they always had reserved seats on the front row in all of the main showcase rooms.  When I came into one of the rooms, which was full, Reba patted the seat next to her, motioned me over, and said, "Vic is napping.  Please join me!"... and it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

They started coming down for the South Florida Folk Festival each January, staying for a long weekend... and then a few weeks... and then a month... until they finally became snowbirds, arriving early-December and leaving late-March.  Vic passed away of Parkinson's Disease in January 2009, while they were still in Florida; he was in a coma a few weeks before he died, and I sat vigil with Reba a few times to keep her company, bringing sandwiches and mandarin oranges, or grapes, because I knew she wasn't leaving the room to eat.

The singer-songwriter Joel Raphael sent Reba a peace lily plant in condolence and, when she was headed back north for the spring, she asked if I would take care of it in her absence... and of course I said yes.  It is with honor as well as trepidation to have co-custody, in that, god forbid anything happens to it on my watch.  I've always sworn to myself that I would just go to the nursery, find a "color match", and no one else would be the wiser.  Thank goodness my theory has not been tested.

Reba is game for road trips, and has been my road buddy all the way to St. Augustine (twice) to see Richard Shindell and Dar Williams (stories for another time).  When she is in town, we do lunch regularly (at least we did, pre-pandemic), and concerts, and dinners with friends.  She turned 83 in March (2020).

She was in Florida when the coronavirus hit, and I checked in with her a few times a week, and asked her to send me her grocery list weekly, so that I could order via Instacart and then deliver to Plantation (about 25 minutes north), sitting on her patio and visiting a while after she put her perishables away.  She was grateful and I was glad to do it, thinking that, if my Mom were still alive, I would love to envision someone doing it for her.  She is fun, and funny, and good company, and often tells the same story, but 80% of the time I let her, and the other 20%, I say, "I love that story!".

Reba decided to go back to Maryland in early-July, one of the main reasons being that she was terrified to be here for hurricane season.  She hadn't been home more than two weeks when she slipped and fell on her stairs, breaking her shoulder, ending up in the hospital (thankfully no surgery required), then to a relative's home, then back to her house with around-the-clock home health aides.  Now her daughter Judy, who lives in San Francisco, has asked Reba to come stay with her (not sure if temporary or permanent), and she'll be flying out September 8.

All this to say (whew!), Reba is giving up her apartment in Florida, and has asked me and Dave to be in charge of sending clothes and special artwork to Judy's... and then distributing the remainder of dishes, glassware, CDs, furniture, lamps, etc. as we see fit... and today was Phase I.  We were super-productive, and we're going back tomorrow.  Yes, it's a lot of work... but it's Reba.

And that's why I'm taking a bath... :-) "

There is more to the story, but I just don't have the heart or the energy to finish it now.  Although I intuited from recent interactions that she was declining, Reba's death was unexpected, sudden, and heartbreaking.  I am inconsolable... and now I have full custody of the peace lily... ☮⚘

SONG:  Just Like That by Rachel Bissex (Rachel wrote this song about Vic and Reba... and Dar Williams covered it on Remembering Rachel, a tribute put together after Rachel's death, which Vic produced/assembled/publicized)... 💕

BOOK:  Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

POEM:  While I Wait by Brooke James

At the sidewalk café

a white-haired man

asks for coffee, hot,

cream, no sugar.

His daughter touches his sleeve

and points—the cranberry scones 

in the glass case—

your favorite, remember?

His granddaughter splashes

in the ceramic dog bowl 

brimming with cool water 

on the porch step

where I sit shielding my eyes 

from the sun with a menu,

the salmon pink impatiens

in the clay pots tremble 

when a concrete mixer rumbles by,

spinning its vanilla and orange striped drum.

Look, I whisper to the little girl,

a swirled ice cream cone on wheels. 

Late August drifts by,

settles on my sun-warmed knees.

A friend of mine died 

last week, I say to no one

as I wait for you to cross the street,

waving as you come.

[Brooke James: “The poems that really stay with me are the ones in which the big and small moments of life intermingle. This is what I attempted to achieve with ‘While I Wait’: a late summer afternoon in a sidewalk café, made memorable by salmon pink petunias, the death of a friend, cool water in a dog bowl, and you crossing the street to meet me, your hand outstretched in greeting.”]

QUOTE:  "The meaning of life is to give and receive love.  Everything else is just the stage to do this on." ~ Sheryl Cattell