Lewisburg Friends
A collection of musings on Iris from loved ones in the Lewisburg, PA community, where she spent several almost four decades. Quotes are attributed.
I was saddened to hear of Iris’s passing. In my experience, even when we understand that death is imminent, our hearts are never really prepared.Though we go through the motions afterwards, our souls take their own time to adjust to this enormous loss. Because you were so close and loving, Iris’s loss leaves a big space and silence where she used to be.
I always enjoyed being in her presence as I sensed that she radiated life, energy, curiosity, and caring. She was always genuinely interested in us and it was clear how important relationships were to her. I counted on her for humor, creativity, perspective, and laughter. Those qualities persisted through her illness and treatments. She did not dwell on herself and her ailments. I admired her devotion to Oliver and his care as he was starting life. Our lives are diminished with her passing.
John Gerdes
Our memories of Iris are of her constant presence in the community of ideas and the arts, whether it be a book discussion at the Griot or a dance performance in Harvey Powers. Her smile and her engagement in these fields are what standout the most in our minds. But in truth, the most beautiful images were the photos of her with Oliver that were shown at the Spring Dance Concert tribute. Her face says it all.
Maurice and Laurie Aburdene
What I remember most about Iris is her kindness and her smile. She was always gentle, always understanding. Her devotion to you, Sarah, her grandchild ... all of her family ... was so evident. The world was definitely a kinder place with her in it.
Chris Fry
I will remember Iris as a kind and gentle soul who was always welcoming, fully present and supportive. She lived her life creatively and joyfully. I will miss her warmth, generosity of spirit, and profound insights. I am grateful for all that she shared with me.
Rosalyn Richards
It is with a heavy heart that I write this message. You have asked me to write a few words about
Iris’ involvement with CARE (Community Alliance for Respect and Equality) over the years, and I will do just that but it is important I include how grateful I am that we got to share so many wonderful memories together. I will cherish those moments forever. Her kindness, humor, and wisdom have made such a difference in my life, and I am grateful for every moment we have spent together.
For as long as I have known Iris, she has been a dedicated member of our community and has been a steadfast member of CARE since the very beginning in the early 90’s with Doug Sturm and others. She strongly believed in the importance of community alliances for promoting respect and equality for all individuals. Through her involvement with CARE, she consistently worked towards building a more inclusive and just community.
Iris understood and believed passionately that everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect, regardless of their race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, or any other factor that makes them unique. She recognized that discrimination and inequality are still pervasive in society, so she continued to stay committed to doing her part to combat these issues.
As a member of CARE, Iris participated in numerous events and initiatives aimed at promoting respect and equality. She volunteered a great deal of her time organizing community forums, coordinating outreach programs, marching in parades for peace, and working tirelessly to raise awareness about issues affecting marginalized groups. Through her efforts, Iris helped foster a more welcoming and inclusive community where everyone feels valued and respected.
Iris is a very dear friend of mine who I will continue to miss terribly, she was always there to support my efforts which I appreciate so very much. Her commitment to building strong community alliances continues to be an inspiration to me and others. Iris serves as an example of how one person's efforts can make a significant impact on the world around them.
Cindy Peltier
Bob remembers way back to the Trencherman and University Avenue days in the 1980s, Sarah's first years, and all the energy, challenges, and fun of those times.
My Virginia Wolff art could not have found a better home. I wanted its healing message to continue to resonate, and I know it did. Do you think it was from The Magpie, or later (c. 2003-2006) from Out of the Blue Gallery?
Iris was one of June Oddies birthday week. That was me on June 1, Iris on June 3, Danna Frangione on June 5, Farida Zaid on June 7, and Sally Matthews on June 9! We Geminis had fun mirroring and contrasting one another, and I continue to toast us all.
The sign of a true friendship is having one long conversation that can have long gaps and still pick up anytime, anywhere. And through the years, not only did we agree on many vital topics, but we came to those thoughts the same way. Talking to Iris always made me feel less isolated and odd, relieved to be heard and understood. Our years in the Circle group ensured that we connected regularly.
I keep finding little gifts from Iris around the house. Last night I even slept with a little lavender pillow she made. I'm sure you both have so many treasures, tools, toys and treats from her!
I was far away when I heard Iris was in her last days. But there I was, at Elaine's family farm in Georgia, camping next to their Prayer Tree. I went immediately under it to connect with earth and sky, and send loving Light however she, and you, needed it. When Phoebe talked about Iris's vision of friends and trees, I hope the cedar tree was one of them.
Nancy "Nanso" Cleaver
I have so many fond memories of Iris & your family & have been ruminating over them these last few weeks. What keeps popping up is our wonderful time in London in 1989.
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Iris and I spent many mornings and afternoons strolling around with Sarah, popping into stores, walking around Regents Park and simply taking in London.
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Once we went to Selfridges and found ourselves in the bedding department where they were serving champagne, of all things, in the morning. We had some, stayed a bit & then left laughing all the way home. What fun we had!
Toni Byrd
Iris spent over a decade as Outreach Coordinator for the Weis Center Series during the second half of my 20+ year tenure as director of the facility and its arts series. She contributed above and beyond the call of duty and certainly her pay scale. My memory has always functioned spottily, but, aside from the warm and grateful feelings I will always carry for Iris, I have a few fond recollections of things we shared. She was a colleague and, as such, a self-starter. She planned and executed the outreach work with little supervision, telling me what was coming and what I needed to contribute.
My most delightful memories of Iris center on our party planning for donor, artist. and audience events and receptions. We shared a love of creating unexpected themes and crafting unusual decorations. I still remember a post-performance party we threw in the Langone Center Terrace Room following a performance of Vivaldi's Four Seasons. We went crazy setting up four stations of seasonal foods for our “Four Seasons” gala with specific decorations (and food) for each season. For example, the summer table, at which hot dogs and snow cones were offered, had a beach theme with a Dada-ist sculptural collection of flip-flops, sun hats, snorkels, sand pails, plastic shovels, beach towels and an umbrella in bright colors. Our efforts that day come to mind every time I use the now-tattered yellow beach towel after showering. In turn, these thoughts kick-start memories, now jumbled, of our numerous trips together to Value City, a now-defunct remainder store across the road from the Susquehanna Valley Mall. We both loved that place. We shared a bargain hunter's heart and thrilled at finding deeply discounted things we didn't know we wanted. Most of the decorations for this party and other parties were procured there. And sometimes we went just for the fun of it, for after-hours relaxation since neither of us were big drinkers and bars were boring.
Iris was the second shift of the WC colleagues who kept me sane (the first being Nancy Cook with whom she overlapped only a year or two). I vented to her, ran ideas by her, relied on her proof-reading, commiserated with her. She was empathetic and caring. I probably didn't appreciated her then as much as I should have. In retrospect, we were a wonderful workplace fit. We depended on each other and grew close over the years; those feelings remained after retirement.
One act of caring kindness was so enormous as to leave me eternally in Iris's debt. She arranged her life to come to New York for one of the three unspeakably awful open-torso surgeries in which my dissecting aorta was replaced. I think it was the third and worst of the three, but they happened over an 18-month period during which I was often heavily drugged and sometimes in shock, so memory is murky and non-chronological. She checked me into the hospital, visited me while there, and took care of me in my New York home for days at the start of my recovery. Iris was my closest relative for weeks, and her support was essential to my eventual recovery. I could only repay such a gift with deep and abiding gratitude.
There is much more that I cherish of the things I – and, I am sure, others – shared with Iris, including the big dinners for family and friends she and Bob hosted in their home, the performances we attended together (some elicited praise, some disdain, and we almost always agreed), lots of laughter and stories and tears. I can't imagine how much poorer my three-plus decades in Lewisburg would have been had I not had the privilege and pleasure of knowing and growing to love Iris.
As I write this I find myself regretting that I never said these things to her in so many words, but I know in my heart she knew. A final coincidence: after my first emergency aortic operation in 2011, Iris arranged for the Weis Center to gift me a get-well plant – it died 12 years later in the same month Iris did.
Bill Boswell
Even when you’re not present, you’re always with us- leading us down the Iris Path.
Photo below is sent with love.
Libby Meadow, Eve Granick & Paul Susman
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Iris was such a vibrant contributor to the cultural life of our community. She did so much to encourage and coordinate those who make our small town and the surrounding region a better, more welcoming and inclusive place to live…. Only a special few had a lifetime filled with dance, poetry and commitment to others and their wellbeing.
Gary and Sandy Sojka
I had the honor of caring for a beautiful soul in the last weeks of her life. Tonight, Mette and I joined a group of friends beneath the Spring Full Moon to honor her time with us in this life. I kept thinking about the beautiful forest she described in her final days. The trees welcomed her to dance among them. They represented her friends through her life. She told me again and again how beautiful it was. She spoke of the sparkle in the forest.
Iris, your beautiful embrace of life brought us all together tonight as we danced in your forest with sparkles. I am forever a better person to have known and loved you.
Phoebe Faden, Posted on Facebook following Iris's passing
In my imagination, I can picture so clearly with her two little buns on the top of her head. She is smiling and sashaying down Market St. with dance-like steps. We had many wonderful times together, especially those very special Thanksgiving dinners….Iris spirit lives on in the love of her friends…for her.
Janice Mann
We remember Iris as a very kind, warm person, a perceptive reader of poetry, a great and faithful supporter of the arts. She was unfailingly a friend whenI remember (and experienced) Iris as an incandescent, spirited creative, and an extraordinarily caring, kind individual. Coming to Lewisburg from Boston as a new member of Bucknell and experiencing Iris' warm smile and genuine welcome assured me that this quaint little Victorian town could possibly be a special, fun place to live in and call home. I also loved Iris' wonderful, inimitable outfits that symbolized for me her deeply profound poetic ways of being and embracing life...I will miss seeing her at poetry readings, Griot and Weis Center events, and other cultural and artistic activities that abound in Lewisburg, yet I am grateful for having had various opportunities to engage Iris....My life in Lewisburg has been richly enhanced by her amazing presence...
Carol Wayne White
We remember Iris as a very kind, warm person, a perceptive reader of poetry, a great and faithful supporter of the arts. She was unfailingly a friend when a friend was needed and she was generous in her acknowledgment of others' efforts and accomplishments. We miss her greatly.
Harold Schweizer and Saundra Morris
What a lovely person, so full of love and interest in the world & beauty around us, and those of us lucky enough to have shared it with her. I have many fond memories of our years as neighbors on Brown Street - and smile every time I think of our sleepover with Iris and Sarah at our house when Bob was out of town and a Bat had taken up residence instead! We were always happy to run into Iris in town - and our Brown Street connection… I do keep singing in my head, “You’re only dancin’ on this earth a short while” by Cat Stevens. Iris sure did make it count! xox
Louise, Tony, Katie and Matthew Ruiz
I will always associate Iris with her wit, care for others, and those beautiful, fanciful, fun collages – her creativity.
Karen Morin and Dan Olivetti
Dear Iris,
I wanted to write you a quick note since I know you’re stuck in the hospital, and I’m not able to see you. I wanted to share how much I treasure all the wonderful memories that I have of hanging out with you and your family in Lewisburg. From all the dress up and art projects at your house, to days spent at Glen pool with you guys, my childhood is filled with you in it. I really appreciate the magic of those years and the role you played in it.
In addition to being such a strong presence in my life, you’ve been the most incredibly dear friend to my mother. Your creativity, positive energy and life force is felt in any room. I am so glad I got to see Sarah get married and celebrate that with you. Even though we don’t see each other very often, I always hold you near and dear, and love you so much.
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Sending so much love and light to you right now.
Written by Kate Wheatcroft, Read to Iris by Bob prior to her passing
My memories are impressionistic.
One memory is how welcoming your home was, and your garden. It was always such a joy to come visit. We have always felt like some combination of close friends and honored guests. I think you make lots of people feel that way. Even if we hadn't seen you for a while, you (Bob) and Iris could start talking to us as if you were picking up a conversation from yesterday.
I didn't get to see a lot of Iris's professional work or community work, but of course one of the most noticeable things was her adoration of Sarah. Still, even when Iris wasn't well, the most striking thing was her devotion to Oliver when he came along. I'm so glad they got to have the time together that they did.
Beyond all that, one specific memory that will always stand out is of Iris and Bob dancing in Kelly's original Love Dance. Absolute Joy!
Mitch Hart
I remember fondly the times commiserating with Iris about our free spirited artistic daughters. And on a lesser note, the joys of thrifting and yard sales. It was a joy to know her. She will be missed.
Barb Ross
Below is a photo of Iris with you and other loved ones that capture her luminous spirit and kindness – Iris was so kind, caring, and had a way of making people feel special and valued.
Kim Maser & Rick Zaconne
In considering all the people one might meet in a lifetime, it is rare to consider whether people embody the given first names they are known by during their existences. In fact, most individuals do not even contemplate the profound significance a name may bear.
In the case of Iris (Rifkin-Gainer), her spirit reflected the obvious range of beauty the flowers display to the world. The unique petal shape draws one's attention straight-away, and Iris, as a therapist, drew people to her because of her sincere interest in helping others. Moreover, as the array of iris color combinations is stunning, Iris's talents encompassed dance, poetry, visual arts, performance arts and more.
Whenever our paths crossed, our conversations would drift like a perfumery fragrance to the subject of teaching. Iris and I would muse about the importance of our profession and how it is taken for granted like flowers so easily overlooked in a field.
Symbolically, in floriography the iris flower represents courage, faith, hope, valor and wisdom. The strength, kindness, optimism, love and creativity that she demonstrated instills in me that life is worth living because there are people in the world like Iris.
Harvey Edwards
We treasure so many wonderful memories of Iris, unforgettable times and so many shared experiences. In the early days of our friendship we came together through theatre and music at Bucknell. Iris’s wit, grace, intelligence, and artistic depth enriched our cultural life in so many ways. The time we all spent together in London is an especially fond memory with its evenings of good food, theatre, concerts, conversation, and numerous hours spent trolling the myriad charity shops. The interview about her career in dance therapy that is now archived on YouTube reveals the depth of her artistry and her generosity. For several years an event that marked the year for us was the annual gathering on Brown Street for Thanksgiving dinner . . . . wonderful food, rich conversation, and true and abiding friendship. A friendship not soon forgotten.
Jackson and Martha Hill
I believe I met Iris through CARE (i.e., Community Alliance for Respect & Equality), which I first became involved in in 2002. I have memories of her moving/gently dancing around various meeting spaces prior to the meetings; her movements occurred at times because of her back pain, she told us. But even when she appeared to be in pain, there was something freeing in the way she moved. Iris sometimes brought tasty food for us to snack on during gatherings. And it was during those meetings that Iris consistently advocated for inclusiveness, social justice, equality and respect for all. I recall one time Iris describing the meaning of the word mensch, and telling us, for example, that Doug Sturm was a mensch.
Iris’ 70th birthday party comes to mind as I reflect on Iris. I remember it being outside at Cindy’s and Roz's, it being celebratory, Iris smiling a lot and having a good time with all. What a way to mark 70 years! Cindy just reminded me that if Iris wasn’t surprised that she sure acted like she was.
Iris’ sense of humor, kindness and loving ways came across to me especially in the times over the years that she and others would sit in the shade in our backyard waiting for the annual Lewisburg 4th of July parade to start. We proudly marched as members of CARE, wearing our T-shirts and carrying 1 or 2 banners. Some of the mornings were sunny and hot, so it was nice just to sit and wait in the yard. The last time I saw Iris she was having lunch with Bob at a table outside of Amami’s cafe. Due to COVID and the need not to spread any germs that I had, I spoke with them from a distance. I feel sad for not being able to give her a hug and receive a hug from her. I am so glad that I got to know her. Unless I am mistaken, historically, the term mensch was assigned to men. Iris was a mensch.
Peace and love to you.
David Deibler-Gorman
Below there are a few words I wrote for Iris and the picture from the Women's March. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to express my feelings about Iris' life and passing. I miss her but I know she is with us all:
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That afternoon, at Carmen's house, I saw for the first time a woman, petite but with a firm and gentle pace. It was impossible not to notice her. She looked like a butterfly floating lightly and landing each leg delicately on the ground. Her smile, just hinted, was gracious, her gaze sweet and her words kind and sincere. Well, this was Iris, this is still Iris for me. Yet, in her lightness, she was tenacious. At the Women's March in Washington in January 2017, she was there too. She was tired, there was a long way to go, yet she didn't stop. She leaned on her friends, rested, looked ahead and set off again. She never gave up, she never failed to exchange a word with us all, intelligent, determined to make her voice heard among the thousands who marched for the rights of women and all other minorities. And the day she left for her final journey, I didn't know anything about her real skills as a dancer and yet I imagined her like this, dancing towards the sky, lightly moving her hands and feet in the air, with that sweet gaze that cannot be forgotten. Beautiful souls like Iris remain forever with us. With love and gratitude.
Anna Papparcone
Hello Dearest Iris.
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I have been thinking of you so much, collecting so many beautiful memories of you in my life and breathing them in with a heart full of gratitude. I have learned so much from you — about dance, about empathy, about being simultaneously strong in your convictions while also soft and gracious, making room for others. I wanted to share some memories that have been running through my head— starting with some of my first visits to your house and hearing you sing, with carrot in hand, “Tiny Raaaaaabittt” to the floppy-eared bunny. I think of you and Bob having me to dinner with your touch of tiny bowls of nuts and chocolates and delicate napkins. I think of dancing with you at weddings ( David Gilmore, Heath Hansum, Paula & Gary, SARAH & IAN!!) and oh so many parties, and working through choreography for the LOVE project and that fabulous Flamingo duet with Bob. I remember you meeting Henry when he was first born— calling him delicious and introducing me to the song, “Dance with me Henry” and then teaching me the phrase: “half a tushie plus half a tushie makes a whole tushie!”
I remember the wise words of consolation you would offer when I was struggling as a teacher or a choreographer and when you’d help me reconnect my body and spirit through dance therapy. I think of seeing you with Oliver for the first time and then watching him follow you with huge loving eyes across your backyard. My adult life is threaded with your inspiring influence— you model who I wanted to be as I came into my own at Bucknell— and I now offer you back the strength, intentionality, compassion and embodiment that you have given me. Iris, you are a deep poetic soul, all empathy, all love through activism and art. I love you deeply and cherish every dinner, every gathering, every conversation, every dance. It was you and Bob who represented all of our families as you stood witness to my wedding in the woods, (only the two of you and my best friend) and then you graciously hosted a reception for us afterwards. It was you who helped me grieve and connect after Carmen left this world. It is you who bring a full oxygenated breath to my body when I think of your kindness. How can I ever thank you enough for your friendship and love? I love you, Iris. I leave you today with this Mary Oliver poem (Wild Geese) YOU read on the day I was married:
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
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All my Love, Kelly
Kelly Knox, Words to Iris when she was in the hospital, on Wednesday, March 22, 2023
Lisa: Iris spread her beauty and joy everywhere she went and I will miss her so much.
I am so happy that I got to know her better these past years, starting with our adventure at the Women’s March. I will think of her often, especially every spring when the iris bloom in our garden.
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Felipe: Since we arrived in Lewisburg, almost 20 years ago, we saw Iris everywhere. If there was a theater or dance performance, there she was, illuminating the place with her warm, kind smiles. The memory of her will continue to be there for a long time in the hearts of all of us, knowing her was knowing warmth.
Lisa and Felipe Perrone
I still remember when I first met Iris. I was picking up Bernard at Sunflower Day Care and she came up to me to talk. She was so friendly and very practical. She gave me a complete description of health care in the area, detailing all the benefits and pitfalls of both Evangelical and Geisinger. I loved her from then on. She was always kind, always sweet, always supportive, even when I think she may not have agreed with me. She was a gentle force, but a force all the same.
Nancy Cook
Iris was such a marvelous and dynamic person. Her spirit lives on in so many people including us.
Our times together with Toni and Charles and Paul and Libby were some of the highlights of our time at Bucknell. New Year’s Eve and Passover were a special time because of you all….
Mary Evelyn Tucker and John Grimm
I'm sharing with you the poem I read at our loving gathering for Iris in Kelly's backyard. Iris’ ever expanding circle of friendship has you, her family, as her true center. I am grateful for Iris and you in my life. The world opens with color, but none as spectacular as our Iris.
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Within the circles of our lives
we dance the circles of the years,
the circles of the seasons
within the circles of the years,
the cycles of the moon
within the circles of the seasons,
the circles of our reasons
within the cycles of the moon.
Again, again we come and go
changed, changing. Hands
join, unjoin in love and fear,
grief and joy. The circles turn,
each giving into each, into all.
Only music keeps us here,
each by all the others held.
In the hold of hands and eyes
we turn in pairs, that joining
joining each to all again.
And then we turn aside, alone,
out of the sunlight gone
into the darker circles of return.
-Wendell Berry
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Elaine Williams
We have been reflecting on our time spent with you, from meeting on Market Street with the same Aprica strollers for our daughters, through Pesach, Chanukah and birthday celebrations, a few reunions after we left the Susquehanna Valley. We always treasured your mild demeanor and appreciation of life’s little things.
We have planted Irises in every yard we have had since leaving Lewisburg, and never fail to think of you when the shoots begin in the Spring.
Lynda and Richard Goldberg
Remembering Iris for. . . .
• her courage
• her patience
• her smile that lit up every room she entered
• her kind and gracious way of interacting with everyone she met
• her welcoming (and distinctive) office in the Weis Center
• her creative spirit in decorating for Weis Center events
• her delicious borscht she made on more than one occasion for our mutual friend Paavali
• her ability to make me feel totally comfortable when I explored dance therapy with her
• her joy at our New Year’s events when Sarah would call to wish her and Bob a Happy
New Year
• her absolute delight in talking about grandson Oliver
Lois Svard and Peter Kresl
...sending love and strength -- your mother had so much of both, not just for you but for everyone who came into her space. I loved her so much. Somehow the two memories of her that keep coming to my mind this morning are located at two ends of University Avenue. One is of that morning in 2003 when it had snowed so much that all the streets were empty. I was walking down University Avenue near St. George with little Maya, who was 2, holding her hand as she stumbled a bit. And there at the other end of the street, coming off Malcolm, were you and your mother. You were supporting her because she'd been unwell. And then there was a moment about a year or two ago. I was walking home from work and Iris was starting her daily walk, heading towards University from your house. We met outside my old house at University and Malcolm, waving. I was so thrilled to see that she looked bright and energetic. She seemed happy to see me, too, so we walked up University together until she had to turn back. I always loved her style -- her linen pants and artist's scarves and bags -- and she was wearing something beautiful and memorable that day, too. I feel incredibly lucky to have known her and loved her, and to be a small part of that lovely garden your parents grew.
Meenakshi Ponnuswami
It was at the Bucknell spring dance concert this evening that I learned about Iris's passing. What a wonderful tribute to Iris in the dance program.
I liked Iris very much. She was such a warm, compassionate and gracious woman. I appreciated her commitment to the arts and dance, her passion for social justice and her service to the Weis Center. I'm glad she had an opportunity to be a grandma.
Tom Travis
Mardi M., in her last years living in Lewisburg, was living alone. She had developed a variety of chronic health troubles. She depended on friends such as Iris "to come to her rescue," which included monitoring her medications, getting her to doctor's appointments, and even taking her to the emergency department at the local hospital. Iris was the lead person in this group of her devoted friends who went over to her house any time they were called. There was no question that Mardi averted a major health crisis in her last years of living in Lewisburg due to Iris's oversight of Mardi's care and her devotion to a dear friend.
Louise Knight
I've never known a more lovely, sweet and gentle yet powerful woman. Iris was inspiring to me (and the Bucknell dancers) whenever she took class. She never "sweat", but rather glowed from the inside out and so obviously Loved to move/Had to move. I remember how her cute, freckled cheeks would get all strawberry-pink from having danced her heart out. Loved that! So adored her!
Sarah, I don't know if you remember coming up into the "Crying Room" at the Weis Center with your mom to see Zach when he was just one day old, but I'll never forget it. Your mom was so loving and nurturing as she guided you in how to gently hold him and rock him in your lap. Absolutely Precious. I haven't met Oliver, but I'm sure together with your ingrained mothering skills and having experienced the love and guidance of your parents; he's one lucky young man!
I'll always cherish the welcoming way you Gainers opened your home and hearts to us for our faculty/family get-togethers and made us immediately feel a deep sense of belonging - Iris' unconditionally calm and generous spirit always prevailing. Nothing but good times and fond memories of her, you and Bob - Such a great family unit!
I was so happy to read in the April Bucknell student paper that the BU Spring Dance Concert was dedicated to Iris. I never knew she was an author in addition to her many other attributes and talents. Searching a bit further, I discovered her bio in the Cafe Review - Now I absolutely want to read her earliest works including A History of Poland (age 6) and the untitled tragedy in which everyone dies!!! I'm no poet, but one of my favorite "pairings" is to see dance (either choreographed or improvised) to a deliciously inspiring poem as it's being read aloud- one of my most-loved personal pastimes. After finding the poetry Iris submitted in last summer's Cafe Review, I could sense and experience so much movement in her beautiful, magical choice of words as in Like Planets. Then again, how could she have written anything otherwise?!?
Iris always seemed to be an under-the-radar-Maverick to me . . . she was such her own woman, that I hope in wanting to finish by sharing this Kahlil Gibran poem (“On Death”) from The Prophet, it doesn't seem too cliche'. . . However, whenever these words come to mind, they bring me solace. Especially in times such as these, I hope they will for you, too.
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On Death
Then Almitra spoke, saying, We would ask now of Death.
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs,
then shall you truly dance.
Shellie Cash, Bucknell U. Faculty Ballet instructor from about 1989 to 1994
Many of us are aging boomers and taking the last leg of the path that Iris has nobly tread.
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Each has their own way to deal with the limits of life. But it does seem that we are constantly waving adieu, adieu to our friends and contemporaries. It is natural to do so. Within all this waving goodbye our dear friend Iris shines, having withstood relentless illness and pain.
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From birth and more clearly with every decade we know of this coming -passing into the good night we know that all the glory on earth will not help us avoid the final destination. We know it is coming and we get ever closer with each passing moment and yet it is still a surprise. For if we love life just enough, we put it out of our minds. But eventually it comes barreling in at some inopportune time. Always an inopportune time.
In thinking about Iris I keep coming back to Erasmus of Rotterdam’s meditation on the “the one true friend”. Of course, there are many things that iris accomplished, and she carried on with a sense of humor and winning spirit. But the one true friend is what seems to embody the rich goodness of iris. And since Erasmus wrote in Latin I think it is appropriate here to quote him in that long lost language----- --"foveat versus amicus” - cherish that one true friend.
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I know Latin from HS, which at the time I eschewed. But I came to appreciate its utility in deciphering the recordings of wise long dead white men.
We say Iris has passed but that is not enough. Iris is a loss. A true friend dying is a great loss and Iris is that one true friend. We feel a gap in our flesh, and we mourn the passing of Iris. Eve and I at the kitchen table wept for our one true friend. The one who was always there even when the distance as the crow flies, was great between us. And through tears I said -but we should not weep for Iris and I uttered something about a time to celebrate her life and that furthermore Iris would not want us to weep so. And then....I lifted my head. Hark, I said. I hear something. Oh yes. as if carried on the wind I hear the voice of iris. she is telling us something from the other side. She says -and I tilted my ear upward. What’s she saying? What? What? Implored Eve. She says... “oh please, please do not....not weep on account of me.”
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And we again looked across the table humbled and befuddled and wept even more desperately for the loss of Iris and we were astonished by her power to speak so forthrightly from the other side. I have been thinking about Iris and the other side and it occurs to me- the other side of what? Iris is on the other side of what? Life? That would mean dead and gone and this terrible sense of loss. There is something useful in that image, perhaps even some truth.
But after a visit to the smartest man in the whole damn world I came to realize that life is not in tension with death. It is in tension with the whole- the everything, everywhere, all at once. People must conjure the past, imagine the future and all from the incessant, fleeting now. It is an odd gift this life. Tis but a construction of the imagination utilizing the long years of passing instants. The passing moments in which we came to know Iris and then conjured her past and imagined her future. The conjuring is where Iris dwells in us all as the one true friend. Though her body has left its former state we conjure her and carry her in our moments... She has joined the everything, everywhere, all at once- the whole. Humans doubt and even despise. Iris was human. But Irises’ doubt germinated in the same heart as did her curiosity and love.
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Dare to imagine there is no other place. There is only everything at once. We stay in the something. She has joined the everything. Perhaps it is a bridge she has crossed. Such we may think. A bridge, a thing going from one place to another. Going to another place. As far as those separated from the whole residing in a state of living are concerned the whole is “no thing”. It is impossible to be where Iris is, at least as imagined by our limited living time. But the inconceivable whole, the nothing to us- is everything ...without time.
And even though I sat down and had such an enlightening conversation with the smartest damn person in the world, I am sure that Iris is out there joined to the whole. For at the kitchen table after she had joined the whole, she spoke to us, allowed in her way, our weeping at her loss.
Ok, it is possible. Perhaps likely that Iris spoke to us through our hearts our imagination and not truly from the other side. Although at that moment we felt Iris. And so it is that the one true friend can live on in our hearts and we can be thankful that we knew her and her wide smile. And we can raise that good smile to our eyes at will as we follow Irises’ lead into that good night. In the same way we conjure the darkness ahead, with the same muscle of imagination- we remember with delight- the heart, the goodness, the enthusiasm of Iris. We will, none of us forget Iris Gainer, the one true friend.
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PS-Oh and just to be clear I failed my two years of HS Latin and well Erasmus may or may not have said what I attributed to him. Google it!
David Wheatcroft
