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.