Tom

Tom

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Remembering Tom - add your name and a picture

This is a blog where you can write memories and stories and post pictures of Tom.  I have made a few people authors, but anyone can be an author.  Please email me at MartyR@sonic.net if you want to be an author of if you have a picture to post.  Or else you can click on comments and post a comment that way.

Please sign your full name to your posts.  It's much more interesting to all if we know who you are. And maybe a little something about how and when you knew Tom.  If you could attach a picture of yourself - even better.  Many of us are trying to sort out who all these people are.  There is a little "insert image" icon in the place where you compose your message.
Thanks,
Marty Roberts

I will be the point person...

i left a comment after reading marty's post... but realized i should post this so everyone will know who to contact. i will take care of the photo board and setting up for the potluck. i will also bring a large dish of food and beer and wine. i do not want people who are traveling far to have to bring anything. the closer folks can bring something for the potluck..

love, deb dsimonds@sonic.net bring on the ideas ..

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

remembering, with great fondness and deep regret

the regret is that I'd not seen Tom in ..... WOW .... the years roll by. A bit more than 3 years. Never thought I'd lose the chance to just call him up and suggest dinner, or a bike ride. We were real buddies for many years while we were both "single-and-looking" ... (tho I think I was looking a whole lot harder than he was). We'd met on an internet dating site in the spring of 2000. It was "buds at first sight" .... or at least by the end of that first evening.

What a difference it made to have such a loving, thoughtful and true friend, whose company I enjoyed so thoroughly. Tom was so INTERESTING .... so fascinated by the twists and turns and nuance of the human heart and mind. Those were hard years for me, and so much softer because of Tom's friendship. We used to go on long bike rides (actually, they were probably short ones for him, but long for me) and then make WAY healthy dinners out of fresh produce when we'd worked up a serious appetite. He was so HEALTHY and so knowledgable about nutrition. I respected and enjoyed him deeply, in so many ways. Amazingly, he was better than any of my girlfriends when it came to discussing all the shades of possible interpretation regarding whatever romance/relationship issues I was having at any given time. I don't think that I've ever had such a close and loving relationship with a man whom I was NOT "in relationship" with -- before or since. If I had to file my memories of Tom under just one word, it would be "kindness". The deep, all the way thru, type of kindness.

One story: It was about a rabbit. Or maybe a few. Tom had a construction job (residential). And the person who's house he was working on kept rabbits in a cage outside. He was worried because he didn't think they were getting adequate care. And it got cold at night. He didn't think they got enough to eat. And it broke his heart to see them trapped in a cage. He felt that something had to be done. He didn't know how to approach the owner about the rabbit's care. He brought them food. He brought them a blanket which he put into the cage. He deliberated for many weeks over the best course of action. We composed many letters to the woman who kept the rabbits in that cage. I don't recall what actually ended up happening, or if there was ever any resolution. What I do remember was the DEPTH of ANGUISH that Tom suffered over those rabbits and their living conditions. I share some of his sensitivity (tho to a lesser degree), so I recall that we both spent many many many hours brainstorming about what could be done to give those rabbits a better life.

I find tears coming as I think of my dear friend Tom, and how I took so for granted that he'd always be here ... with that infinite well of kindness that he embodied. Blessings upon you, dear friend .... I am so enriched by having shared some time and some essential being-ness with you.

this Friday night

it's me again....Tom's old housemate. I just wanted to invite Tom's local loved ones, if you're feeling inclined, to gather this Friday night at Gaia's Garden (www.gaiasgardenonline.com).

when I first heard the shocking news, I began eliminating all the less than essential activities from my week, so I could focus on dealing with this new reality.

I considered cancelling my gig to play the piano for Friday night dinner at Gaia's, when it occurred to me that music can be very healing, as can healthy, good food.

I will be playing music between 6:15 and 7:45. I normally play a mix of blues, jazz, old favorites, and originals. But this week, I will include songs that relate to this experience..... anything that reminds me of Tom. We shared a stereo for 8 years, and I came to know a bit of his musical tastes, and will do my best to honor them (if you're coming, and there is anything you'd like to hear in particular, let me know beforehand 579-3849, and I'll do my best to pull it together to play).

mainly, I think it will just be nice for people to see each other, connect, and support one another though this painful time.

the details of the Oct. 16th memorial will be posted soon on this site.

I look forward to meeting those of you I've only heard about for some years...

Take care,

Julie Chasen

missing Tom

For years I have felt that Tom and I have become family members, by way of Buster.... by way of a shared love of the same dog. He moved into my small 2 bedroom 1 bath house over 8 years ago, because of Buster (I had noted in my housemate listing that a dachsund mix dog lived here), and stayed 8 years, despite occasional yearnings to live a more rural life, because of his great love and connection to him.

It did not take me long to realize I was living with a true gem. One of the kindest, gentlest, open-hearted men you'd ever know (well, you know....). Tom was the only person on earth that knew all of my secrets, habits, issues, and neurosis. He saw me through great personal challenges, discoveries, and revelations. He loved to talk about relationships, and we regularly got into the deep nitty gritty stuff of what makes us tick, and what is going on on the deepest levels of our emotional and spiritual lives.

Knowing what a good friend and loving person he was (do I have to say "was"?), and that he is also somewhat introverted, yet was interested in having a woman in his life for a deep, intimate connection, I took it upon myself to find that lucky woman that might share a loving relationship with Tom. Felt almost like a duty....like someone this great (Tom) could make someone else so happy...., and maybe he could find great joy with the right woman..... By the time I fenegled a way to get him and Elizabeth to meet, I had already tried 5 times to make a match. I always felt honored that Tom trusted my opinion/judgement/taste enough to follow up on all my matchmaking attempts. None of them were disastrous...but only one really struck that chord that changes your whole life.

This July, as Tom was getting ready to move out, was somewhat tumultuous for both of us. I was stunned by the suddenness...and in some ways, Tom was stunned too. He feared not getting to see Buster enough, and I let him know that he could see Buster whenever he wanted, and that Buster could stay at his new place, down the street, a lot too. Once, he even remarked that he was having some issues and concerns about leaving me, as we were now like family. It was nice to hear it wasn't only about Buster! I'm not exactly sure how I responded that day, but what I wanted to get across, was that, like family, we will always be connected.

The day before his chest pains started, I remember walking Buster home from Tom and Elizabeth's place. Buster had spent the night there, and I had been out of town camping. That morning, upon returning to Santa Rosa and checking my messages, there was one from Tom asking me to do him a "favor".
The favor was that when I picked Buster up at his house, to go into the main part of the house and use his phone to call him at work so he would know that Buster was no longer alone. I did that, and Tom asked "how was he?" since Buster had shown signs of not being at ease in the new house, particularly when Tom wasn't there, and he had just spent an hour alone. I said, he seems fine, and thanked him for caring so much.

As I left their house, walking Buster up the street toward my home, I felt this huge swell in my heart....I felt so blessed....like Tom's moving down the street (instead of somewhere farther away) expanded my world...expanded my family...that the love had only grown...
I can't remember exactly when, probably when Tom was in his mid-teens, four of us went on a backpacking trip. Tom, Gordy Branch, our neighbor and Jan and I (Tom's sisters).We were pretty happy hikers, but, we'd worked up a sweat and needed some relief. We came upon a beautiful creek that was slipping down some large smooth granite slabs. We slid and slid. It was the best part of the day. So far. We were cool and refreshed. Wonderful. We got out of the water and realized that the reason the rocks were so slippery was that they were covered with leeches. They were in our underwear and more private places. It took a bit of the romance out of the experience, but we washed thoroughly and figured we'd live.
The next part was the BEST part of the day. Tom found a little dead ant on the rock just about a half inch from the water. He assumed it had drowned. This was very sad for Tom, but he decided to try to do something about it. He gently took Lazarus (as he was later called) into his hand and blew on him. Then he worked each little leg with his fingers. He kept alternating: blowing, pumping, blowing, pumping. Soon, little Lazarus (now you'll understand the name) came to and started walking around on Tom's hand. Probably one of many miracles he performed in his short life. Another was almost getting his nephew, Blair to wear a dog's shock collar.
Love to you, Tom. Thanks for the crazy and sweet memories.
Lo

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

OH THIS CURRENT PHOTO IS SO TOM.... i cannot imagine loving anyone more... and yet not having to know that because he was always there.... get in touch with everyone you love and connect as if tomorrow might not come... love you tom, elizabeth and yvonne... deb

What wonderful stories and memories

I am so enjoying ready these entries.  Please keep them coming.  I wonder if Tom had any idea how well loved and respected he was.  I hope he is reading these now.  Looking at the counter at the bottom, there have been 271 visits to this blog - I'd say that's a pretty big circle of admirers.

I had breakfast with Tom at the end of July - he even remembered it was around my birthday.  Our last words as we said good-bye on the street corner is that we would get together soon for a walk along the Laguna.  After hearing all the great hiking stories, I'm so sorry we didn't get to do that......

Marty

Tom Heffernan, another kind of activist


It’s not an exaggeration when I say Tom altered my life--not just because he made me laugh all the time, or taught me a deeper appreciation of the natural world, or that he showed me fresh ways of seeing and thinking, taught me to partner dance well, or showed me the marshes (and those pickle weeds). He also gave me two huge gifts by empowering me to find both my father and my lost friend from college days.


Soon after I met Tom, I told him the story of my biological father who lived in Holland and who had become separated from my mother and me long ago by the war and divorce. I had no idea whether he was alive or dead . Tom was flabbergasted that I hadn’t tried to find him and began kicking my butt about it. Finally, I talked to my mom, who talked to a friend in Holland, who did locate my father whom eventually I met! I visited him twice more with my daughter. We are his only progeny. A whole long story .


Just asTom is the motivator in that major event, so's he the hero of locating my friend Jeannie. At that point I hadn’t heard from her in the 13 years since she’d left Sonoma for points unknown. She was to write me when she found a place to settle and never did. So Tom the activist marched me to the library. I knew her parents lived in the San Diego area so we pulled all the phone books from there, found dozens of addresses for that last name and I wrote postcards to them all. Two letters came back, one of many pages saying she was not the person I was looking for and then telling me all about her family. The other was from Jeannie’s mom. We reunited not long after and have since evolved into virtual sisters. A whole long story.


Thanks to Tom, my world is much broader and more connected. Tom, a story not long enough.

Monday, September 27, 2010

A COMMON SPIRIT

Yesterday, while driving to a social gathering, I noticed the coyote bush beginning to bloom along the hills. My first thought was that Tom had said this was one of his favorite plants. I thought of the Native American Ethnobotany book I just recieved as a gift from my sister and got excited about looking up the uses of one of Tom's favorite plants and sharing the information with him... then I realized, sadly, that I won't be able to do that.

I have enjoyed reading the blogs. I never knew Tom rescued worms, but I'm not suprised that he loved them! I use to stop and rescue toads on the roads when it rained in Michigan. We shared an empathy for nature, love of planet Earth and a great worry for it's current condition. Tom always had a sense of humor about it though; his last mention of a "solution to the problem" was that there was hope because "they have discovered a new super-virus that's immune to any drug". The short story that was submitted on this blog site reflected that humor/concern side of Tom and was one of his endearing qualities. I think he was a great writer and hope that something will get published someday. We use to share our writtings and I always thought he was so accomplished.

Bravery is not something that may come to mind when remembering Tom... a few years back we had taken a trip to Zion National Park and hiked the trail up to Angel's Landing. I chickened out when it came to the vertical climb to the top of the Landing portion of the trail, yet Tom, who had problems with his feet made the ascent!

I feel so fortunate to have had such a friend in my life...out of almost 7 billion people on the planet! Thank you, Tom!

An "OLD" friend's Post

My name is Bob Wynne. I’m an old friend of Tom’s, both in length of tooth and length of service. We met in 1965, as incoming freshmen at St. Joseph’s High School in Alameda. Later that year we became friends as teammates on the tennis team. Tom has been a true friend ever since.

Saturday evening, after I received Elizabeth’s invitation to participate in the blog for Tom, I sat at the computer trying to put together something coherent; words that would evoke some small part of Tom’s Spirit in those of us who knew him. I was being hit with so many memories, experiences and feelings. It was almost as if it is I was watching my own life passing in front of my eyes. When I realized that that was what I was doing, I decided to call it a night, sleep on it, take a long bike ride and try to sort it all out.

The bike ride on Sunday brought me a major dose of synchronicity, which sorted out a lot of things, including this post to the blog.

On Friday, I had allotted time for a long bike ride (one of our joys) just to think about Tom and his passing. What I took away from “all” that thinking were the final lines from Bob Dylan’s song, “You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go.” I thought it a loving sentiment, a fine good-bye to my friend.

"Yer gonna have to leave me now, I know
But I’ll see you in the sky above
In the tall grass, in the ones I love
Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go"

The act of letting Tom go really hit me hard. It made me feel very sad and lonesome. Before I let Tom go, I “asked” him if he would continue to show me things I miss in that “tall grass.” That was one of the joys of hiking or biking with Tom. He always seemed to find interesting things that I might miss and be able to tell me all about them. I often wished to be hiking with Tom when I came upon something new. So he would be there with the answers.

On my ride Sunday, as I was climbing up Tunitas Creek Road, off to my right about 20 feet down the embankment from the road, in the midst of the shadows, there, “like an angel standing in a shaft of light,” was a beautiful lily plant. I thought of Friday’s request and decided that “maybe” Tom was pointing it out to me. I stopped, went back and climbed down to take a picture of the lily. It made me smile a sad but satisfying smile thinking of Tom.

As I was ready to climb back up the embankment, I was drawn to one of the other lilies on the plant. I bent over for a closer look and found an insect nestled among the pistil and stamen of the flower. I thought, “Who do you know that would point out something like this to you?” Only Tom! I smiled, chuckled to myself and felt an overwhelming sense of calm and gratitude.

I plan to post some more in the days ahead.

Thank you

I'm Elizabeth, Tom's girlfriend. A HUGE thank you to Marty for setting up this blog. . .I have so enjoyed reading the shares. I have learned so much about Tom in the last few days. . .I had never even seen him with brown hair before! I knew him just 3 years. . .most of you have known him 30 years or more. I look forward to meeting all of you and hope I will have the chance to get to know you better. Thank you to everyone for sharing. . .please keep them coming!

Sunday, September 26, 2010

A short Short Story by Tom

I met Tom in about 1984 through my very good friend Yvonne. He and I became friends as well. I loved his sense of humor, his kindness, his generosity of spirit, his take on the world, and his enjoyment of argument. We argued a lot, and we shared a love of writing. He reminded me of the boy at the parade who pointed out that the King wasn't wearing any clothes. I loved him, and I miss him. He was a mensch.

I thought some of you would be interested in reading a short Short Story he wrote and sent me about a month ago. It's called "Be There Now."

Love to you all,
Jeannie

BE THERE NOW

"Dear Mr. President,

Sir, I realize the Secretary has already apprised you in general terms of the shocking realizations the Bureau of Demographics has been dealing with for the past few weeks, but he asked me, as the most senior analyst to augment what he has told you. Before I begin, I want you to know that on my desk before me right now, is my letter of resignation. I will submit it at the first word from you or the Secretary. My tenure in the Bureau dates to the late 1960's, I, more than anyone, should have been aware of what was happening. I have failed my country, and I have failed you, Mr. President. I will carry the responsibility and the shame of that realization with me for the rest of my life. Sir, it was I that supervised the Bureau’s study group back in 1975, that produced the now-infamous document that so confidently predicted that by the year 2000 the population of our nation would finally reach its peak at the 250 million mark, and that we would begin our long, long journey back down to sustainable numbers. Numbers that did not exceed the carrying capacity of the land. Of course, all through the late 80's and into the 90's, the senior staff in the Bureau watched the rising numbers with alarm and bafflement. It was clear we would push right past 250 million and head on to 400 million and beyond. Mr. President, everything had been in place! ZPG had taken off like few social movements in our history, birth control usage of all types was up several hundred percent, elective sterilization was up even more, and many were postponing parenthood to such a distant future time that everyone knew it would just never happen. Yet, the population continued its perilous climb. No one could explain it. The sheer numbers of human beings threatens many primary values. Indeed the very “pursuit of happiness” is threatened by our inexorably rising population. And the really bad news has been that there was no end in sight. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and we simply could not comprehend what it was. We have the world’s very best researchers and statisticians in the Bureau, Sir. They can take none of the responsibility for what truly has been my thirty five years of blindness. I failed to provide my superb staff with competent direction in this area. It took a fresh recruit, right out of college, to see what had been staring me in the face for nearly my entire tenure here. Clark Bladderwort is the young man’s name, sir. He is truly a demographic prodigy – and, a national treasure. I understand he was plotting population trends with his Etch-A-Sketch when he was still in kindergarten. I’ve recommended to the Secretary that he be put on the fast track of career advancement in the Bureau. Young Mr. Bladderwort had an inkling of the problem when he was still in high school, but it took his status as a Bureau analyst for him to access sufficient investigative power to confirm his suspicions. Sir, the population trends began deviating from our projections in the mid 1970's. This was the period that we expected to begin to see the fruits of the attitudinal changes that were taking place in the society. Mr. Bladderwort’s genius penetrated deeper than the superficial changes the rest of us were following to the profound philosophical transformations that were taking place simultaneously. As a child, he began to plot the deep philosophic assumptions of the society against the actual movement of population numbers. Something those of us from the more nuts and bolts tradition of the demographics sciences had never considered. He intuited, brilliantly and correctly, that there was something much deeper than the phenomena all the rest of us were tracking. In his first week on the job, Sir, he subpoenaed the records (with my blessing) of the American Psychiatric Society. They compile very general data, Sir, that excludes the records of individual patients, so no one’s privacy was compromised. He had seen something, Mr. President, something that I assure you will, at long last, change our lives – for the better. Just prior to the unexpected rise in population in the mid 1970's, there had been a deep philosophical and cultural shift which was followed almost immediately by a watershed change in psychiatric and psychotherapeutic practices, and our wide-ranging thinker of a young analyst, Mr. Bladderwort, zeroed right in on it and pegged it as the cause of the out of control demographics disaster we’re facing now. The cultural shift, from what we’ve been able to gather, began without malicious intent. A young psychology professor – a protege of the discredited Timothy Leary by the name of Richard Alpert wrote what many considered a “fun little book” with the cryptic title “Be Here Now.” The book, which certainly was written with tongue in cheek, nonetheless found a ready audience of believers among Leary’s followers in the waning days of the hippie movement. As the hippies grew up and moved back into the mainstream lifestyle of their parents’ generation, they took with them this “harmless” little idea, be here now. The idea propagated throughout the subculture-cum-mainstream, and, via some kind of cultural osmosis, was soon taken up by psychologists and psychiatrists, who began to offer it as a routine aspect of their services. Sir, I must state emphatically – at this point, it appears there was no criminal intent. It seems that at the outset a version of mass hysteria was taking hold of the community of mental health professionals. They were seeing what they had already come to believe. The criminal action – the crime against humanity – began more than a decade later. Subpoenaed records show beyond a shadow of a doubt, Mr. President, that by the early 1980's the APA was fully aware of the trouble they were brewing. Form that time on we have clear evidence of a highly orchestrated conspiracy to maintain the status quo. It seems that the criminal activity was driven by two motivations: the prevention of an enormous public relations embarrassment, and, the perpetuation of therapeutic practices that had become phenomenally lucrative for the therapists. As to motive number one. Not a single double blind, peer reviewed study has ever been undertaken to demonstrate the psychological value of living in the present!! Mr. President, the suppression of this single piece of information is almost certainly the most scandalous bit of scientific malfeasance since the Piltdown Hoax – but with far more tragic consequences. Interviews with APA insiders, who have come forward in exchange for immunity from prosecution, have laid out the broad outline of the situation for us. Up until the universal acceptance of the Be Here Now life style, perhaps fifty percent of us – even more in selected sub-cultures, were living somewhere other than the present. For the vast majority of us, that meant some distant past. Sir, the implications for even the most mundane of our current, and, unmanageable crises – traffic, for instance – are enormous. You remember, I’m sure, the fact that gridlock as a cultural reality simply did not exist in the forties, fifties, and sixties. Most people were not present!! And, there’s that unseen before malady of modern times – obesity. Our physiologist consultants tell us that approximately thirty percent of daily calorie intake used to be diverted to the huge physiological and psychological effort of living somewhere other than the present. Sir, all those calories are now contributing to diabetes and heart disease. Be Here Now is overwhelming our health system. As you well know, Sir, our burgeoning population has made the attainment of all of our social goals – improved education, environmental protection, crime reduction, elimination of poverty, ad infinitum – virtually impossible. But the sheer numbers are only the most obvious aspect of the problem. Our informants have confirmed for us what many what many of us demographers have known for some time: a very great many people inhabiting the present simply do not have the qualifications to be here. The present has a set of issues and complexities that are manifestly beyond the comprehension – or the caring -- of the bulk of the population. People are acting out childhood fantasies of power and wealth that are pushing us right to the brink of survival. Sir, these people need to be back in the safe confines of their childhood playrooms and backyards where they can get those urges out of their systems! It’s not just unfair to us, it’s unfair to them to cajole them to live in the here and now. They have some honest growing up left to do. The Bureau is taking no position on the question of the prosecution of officials in the APA. We assume the Justice Department, in consultation with the White House, will determine what is in the nation’s best interest in this regard. We do feel, however, that APA expertise may be invaluable in designing a strategy to alleviate the situation they have created. Preliminary suggestions include the following:**Massive funding allocations to film industry corporations who undertake the production of nostalgia films. **Subtle but pervasive propaganda (I’m sorry, Sir, but at this time, there’s no point in using politically correct terminology) peppered throughout the speeches you give as you travel the country, as well as the encouragement of any and all who have captive audiences – ministers, as an example, to recall with fondness – the good old days. **A greater emphasis in school history classes on the glory of the past. The come-clean, forthright attitudes of many modern teachers who seem to revel in finding villainy and mischief in the past must be discouraged. Sir, we’ve done some preliminary field testing of some ideas like these and have been gratified by the results. In one elementary school district, for example, where several, admittedly, very intensive nostalgia policies have been enacted, enrollment has declined already by an encouraging four and a half percent. The really fortunate thing is that there seems to be some sort of relativistic or quantum effect in play here – something our theorists explain by reciting crypto-paradoxical poetry – they say there’s no other way to explain it – but nobody seems to miss the kids. Not the teachers, not the remaining kids, not even the parents. And here’s more: we did a focus group testing of an extremely positive nostalgia movie set in the 1950's, saturated with powerful subliminal messages. We showed the movie to a selected group of one hundred adults. Sir, only ninety four remained by the end of the film! Again, no one noticed. Wives didn’t even remember that they were married. Husbands claimed they had never heard of the women that entered the theater as their wives not two hours earlier.Needless to say, Sir, we at the Bureau have high hopes. We want to go beyond film to television – we know we can saturate the country much more rapidly this way and put this terrible situation behind us once and for all. We will, of course, advise you of the nights our programs will be aired, and further advise you to keep your own television set turned off for the entire evening. And the APA is being very cooperative. They have sent out urgent letters to all their membership informing them of the lack of evidence for their be-here-now therapies. And they are encouraging their membership to help their clientele to recall the glory days of their youth, and to gloss over those problematic “childhood issues.” To repeat, Sir, I await your word on the submission of my letter of resignation. If you do request me to follow through on this, I will more than likely return to my college days – perhaps take that one additional course in information analysis – and perhaps become a better demographer. And, I suppose, I could lose a few pounds.

Your Sincere Public Servant,
Theodore Thorndike, Ph. D.Senior Analyst, Bureau of Demographics

Great picture just in

This was sent by Tom's sister Jan.  Tom at his niece's wedding in 2008.  wow!  I love it!

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Thoughts from Marty

It is interesting how much Tom is in my thoughts these last few days.  I'm in the garden wondering what Tom would think, picking a ripe tomato wondering what Tom would think.  I think he is traveling with me.  I am feeling such gratitude for the time I spent with Tom and regret that it was so much less the past few years.  But whenever I saw him, we just picked up where we left off.  Good, old friends that go back many years.  It is wonderful to be reminded about the Scott Joplin piano, Meatloaf, Rowboat, the salt marsh, so much more.  Of course one needs no reminding of the wit, the sweetness, the intellect, the commitment to what is right......  Keep the stories coming friends.
Thanks,
Marty Roberts

A Million Times

A Million Times

You never said I'm leaving
You never said good-bye
You were gone before I knew it
And only God knew why

A million times we've needed you,
A million times we've cried.
If love alone could've saved you,
You never would have died.

In life we loved you dearly,
In death we love you still.
In our hearts you hold a place,
No one else will ever fill.

It broke our hearts to lose you,
But you didn't go alone.
Part of us went with you,
The day God took you home.

My Brother, Tom

I'm Tom's sister, Jan. I have loved reading your blogs about him - he was quite a guy. Hard to put down in words how I feel about him without being sappy - he wasn't sappy but he sure was sweet. We don't know what we're going to do without him at our family gatherings - who's going to make us laugh? Who's going to keep us up much later than normal w/ his deep thoughts and queries. He was so knowledgeable about such a variety of subjects - but his passion was the environment. He loved worms! He was at our house after a rain and the worms were on the driveway - Tom was out gathering them up so they wouldn't get squished or dry out. I do that now, too.
He loved a lot of things - good music, delicious food, magic tricks, reading, learning and DOGS. Before he got a dog when he was a little guy, he had turtles, newts, lizards because he was allergic to everything. Then the doc said he could have either a poodle or a dachshund - he chose the dachshund and the rest is history. We had dachshund after dachshund. His dear little Rowboat was the last in a list of fine specimens.
I don't like to think about life without Tom - he was such a huge part of our lives. I love you, Tom.

I'm going to miss our catchup chats.

I've enjoyed a casual relationship with folks from 1541, Bennett Valley and Thomas Creek. Though out those many years I would bump into Tom. We were both guys that weren't afraid to change "hats" and try other endeavors or pathways. Needless to say, a catchup chat was always filled with whatcha doing now and whydidja change? One of the last times Tom and I got to compare places was at a Thomas Creek Thanksgiving recently. We both had been public school teachers. What a hoot is was to swap stories with Tom. His insight and remembrances about being in the classroom really made me laugh. I laughed all the more because they matched my impressions and memories of teaching. Tom: I'll miss our catch up rounds. Maybe, if I behave myself, I'll get a chance to talk with you once more. Until then, I'll miss the opportunities.

A Farewell to Tom

A Farewell To Tom

It shouldn’t be today, no not today

When, just like that, you slipped away

A final wink of the setting sun

Too quick, too sudden to be all done

Maybe twenty years from now or more

When growing older had become a chore

After having had our full share of talks and laughter

And prolonged guesswork of what comes hereafter

Then, it might’ve been easier for our ways to part

I would not have felt such a burdened heart

But not now, my friend, no not today

When, just like that, you slipped away

No time to pause, to bid farewells

You’re off to where the starlight dwells

Out the door, into the darkening sky

There you go, flying far and high

In a world turning not so gradually mad

Your leaving becomes that much more sad

Since all too few are left behind, far too few

Who carry the goodness that lived in you

I will miss your mischievous, quick-witted way

And how your sly grin reveals your mind at play

How the compassion ingrained upon your face

Chastises the world to become a better place

Surely, dear friend, I will see you again someday soon

Perhaps riding on a comet’s tail, circling round the moon

Or in the birdsong drifting by on the morning breeze

I will recognize you, transformed into all of these

And twenty years from now or more

When growing older has become a chore

Your playful smile and gentle kindness, I’m sure to find

Will still remain, residing peacefully in my mind

Another from Paul Judge - Placing my recollections of Thomas Heffernan


September 24, 2010
Driving to some appointments in Santa Rosa this morning I breathed deep and took in the beauty that is Sonoma County.  The sun was warm, the air clear and the distant hills and ridgelines looked their finest.  Driving east on Hwy.12 my eyes were drawn as often they are to the high spine of peaks and ridgelines that frame the vista to the east - Mount St. Helena, Hood Mountain and Sugarloaf ridge, Bennett Peak, Annadel Heights, Mount Taylor, and Sonoma Mountain.  For those of us who live in Sonoma County these are familiar geographic features.

Picture pieces of memories of hikes with Tom over that terrain through the years ran through my mind.  This wasn’t the first time that I reviewed those aggregate memories, but it was the first time since Tom’s death on Wednesday.  I felt the jab of a bittersweet sting in my throat.

Tom and I speculated regularly on what hike through those places would be our next.  In recent years Tom’s consistent conditioning practices made him the stronger hiker of the two of us. Owing to our work and life patterns our visits and excursions were less frequent than in decades past.  I was intimidated at the prospect of a hike we hadn’t gotten around to completing.  It is a long-ass traverse from the rugged backside of Hood Mountain over and down into the Valley of the Moon.  We reckoned that winter or mid-spring was the season to do it.  The prospect of cooler weather and fewer encounters with rattlesnakes agreed with our sense of caution.  Anytime we considered that hike, discretion got the better, saner part of us to select less arduous hikes. 

There are a number of vivid experiences and ventures with Tom stored in the old brainpan to savor.  But being a greedy guy I’d sure like to have squeezed a few more with Tom into the odometer of our friendship.

From Paul Judge - Adrift with my recollections of Thomas Heffernan

September 23
Learning of Tom’s death places me in company with many of you to wrestle with his subtraction from our lives.  Last night I slept fitfully at best.  Lying awake in shock and sadness I tussled with my memories of Tom. 

One of the things I did was to recollect and replay the sound of Tom's voice in my mind.   His voice was expressive, inflective and gentle to the ear.  Conversation with Tom promised that you were usually treated to his measure of ideas across an array of topics, books, films, and passionate concerns.  He was easy to listen to because in the back and forth of the conversation you knew that he listened and cared about the opinions of those he engaged with.  His voice and ideas was the conduit of his gentle personality and thoughtful, curious nature. 

In some circumstances Tom was a stealth raconteur who got the conversation rolling.  Other times he hung back, actively observing, taking his measure, waiting to contribute a sly mirthful aside.  He was self-deprecating and witty.  It was a particular pleasure to have Tom at our family dinner table.  He and Christy would engage in great and varied conversation.  Over the years as our son Sam was growing up Tom would stay and watch a movie with us. It was fascinating to watch Tom and Sam discuss the merits of particular film and its composition.   Whether Sam was 8 or 18 the two of them would converse passionately on topic.

I had the good fortune of meeting Tom in college, and living with Tom and many good friends when we created a collective living setting that thrived and nurtured us. We also taught, worked, and recreated together over the decades.

The Bennett Valley household where a number of us lived during the 1970s to mid ‘80s thrived as a low cost of overhead setting that afforded the opportunity of leisure. I greatly valued then and still now that priceless commodity - leisure.  After morning chores were done and if tasks or job didn’t take you afar the way to find out what you might end up doing on any given day was to take station either around the redwood plank kitchen table built by Jaime Koss or on the old sofa and chairs set on the back porch.  Something usually percolated among those present to provide half day or more of an engaging activity or amusing investigation.   Tom’s temperament was well suited to this as was mine. 

Tom and I could kibitz an afternoon away. We'd laugh ourselves silly reminiscing about the nuns we suffered under in parochial school.  We both riffed to the other that the order of nuns who tortured us was worse than those the other was taught by.  That was kind of like arguing, which hurt more, being hammered with a 12-penny nail or 16-penny nail. 

Tom could spend hours practicing and playing his piano.  He went through his Scott Joplin period, then some Beethoven other classical composers, and a few Beatles tunes there for a while.  It was good to have someone in the house that provided live music.

We’d get the itch to pull on our baseball gloves and play long toss on the roadway between the two barns.  Tom could throw and catch a baseball really well.  Not surprising since the bloke was a sinewy and strong a tennis player.

Or there was nighttime Kamikaze golfing on the course next to the property.  Find ball.
Hit ball. Lose ball. Repeat.  Get bored of doing that and there were always drinks at John Barleycorns to bend an elbow to.  Alan, wasn’t Burning Daylight the preferred drink that was savored?  Walk your way home and hope the sprinklers on the golf course were operating on those cold nights.

Pretty regularly we’d traverse through the oaks of Annadel Heights and take a refreshing dip in Lake Ilsanjo.  It wasn’t unusual for our household’s white and brown cat Meatloaf to trek along with us. 

We’d regularly check out the Pomo midden on other side of Matanzas Creek that David Berg mapped for the SSU Anthro Lab.  We’d stop by there to note what objects the gophers had dug up - obsidian shards, points, worked shells and bone. We tread lightly, respectful of the old ones.  

Community Network

I remember working with Tom at a small nonprofit in the early '80s.. The Community Network. Tom taught young people in a solar training program. He was always so dedicated in his work, fun to be with and open to the needs of the trainees in many ways.

I had not seen Tom for many years until a ran into him on a hike we were both on in the west county about a year ago. He greeted me like we's see each other the day before and we got to catch up on life some during that hike. We also discoverd we both now live in the JC area and so got together for a beer one afternoon last year. Tom was not one you forgot - even over many years and I will continue to think of him.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Picture from 1977

I found this picture from August, 1977.  Tom and other SSU friends at a party in our backyard at 5041.  We were probably watching Norten Buffalo who performed at our backyard parties.  In fact I have a picture of Norten too that I will maybe post.

Also pictured, Lindsay Baldwin, John DeMars and others from our CORE class.

We sure had fun in those days.

Windshield Vipers

I have so many stories and memories of my friend Tom.  We met in ENSP in 1976!  Here is one funny story.  We set out on a camping trip in my little old VW bug with almost no money between us.  I think we were in the Mt. Shasta area and ran into unexpected snow - more like a blizzard actually.  (We had actually planned to camp!) That was the time my windshield wipers decided to give out.  So I can remember Tom reaching out the window in the freezing air, trying to wipe the mounds of snow away as I slowly crept along the road trying to find a place to stop.  Of course it was Sunday so any car repair places in the small town were closed.  So we scraped together our pennies, found a cheap motel, pulled out my idiots guide to VW repair and I remember a greasy mess spread out on newspapers on the motel room floor.  I DON'T recall whether we fixed it or not!  But I think I remember we found enough change in our pockets to share a plate of spaghetti.

Sometime after that, Tom presented me with a birthday card from the "windshield viper"!  It was a real card with a real viper (cut-out)!  I laughed so hard.  I might even still have it - I have to look.


This is from a birthday party in my backyard - 1982 or 1983.  Ginny Doyle on the far right.

Traipsing through the Salicornia

Some things just stick with you. Like the ooze of the salt marsh that seeps between your toes as you traipse through the pickleweed. I don’t think I got it at first. It was hard to walk with pickleweed clinging to my legs and obscuring the braided channels that crisscrossed the marsh. I do remember an exhausting hike back to camp and sinking up to my knee in the organic-rich mud and having to be pulled out. But by the end of the second day I got it, and what had seemed to be only a flat and monotonous landscape transformed itself into something marvelous and wonderful. It takes a different eye to appreciate the beauty of the salt marsh. And I clearly remember feeling like Tom had given me a way of seeing the world and appreciating its beauty that I could not have experienced without his insight, passion and gentle guidance.

It has been many years since I last saw Tom, but that doesn’t mean that I have not thought of the gift he gave me every time I take my classes on a field trip to the salt marshes where we marvel at the ecosystem and admire the physiological fortitude of the Salicornia that can best be experienced by tasting its fleshy stems. My passion for water and wetlands that inspire my teaching all started with ENSP Core Program and specifically that weeklong adventure to the salt marsh on San Pablo Bay. Clearly Tom had a gift and that gift lives on in those whose lives and hearts he touched.

with fond memory,
Robin

deeply saddened ...

In this moment I don't have the time to write what is in my heart regarding the sudden news of Tom's (also sudden) passing. That will happen very soon, but I wanted to say here - immediately - that I am deeply saddened to suddenly find myself in a world without access to someone who held such a special place in my heart. I don't think I've ever known a man or woman who possessed such depth of kindness to all beings. We are all "special", but some are more special than others ... and Tom hit that mark, big-time. My heart goes out to Elizabeth, whom I've not yet met. I'll return here shortly to share feelings and memories of Tom, one of the MOST "dear souls" I've ever had the pleasure of calling "friend".

Do you have pictures?

If any of you have a picture or two of Tom - or of you - please send to me at MartyR@sonic.net and I will post here.  Many people would love to see your pictures.

I might also post pictures of some of us for the benefit of Elizabeth and Tom's sisters who may not know all of us.

You can also post it yourself as a n attachment to your post.

Thanks,
Marty
Our dear friend Tom was such an exceptional soul and friend. A giant heart and a fascinating mind. I will miss his entire self, especially his wit and enjoyment of nature...Love you buddy, Deb