Good Bye, Allen

I thought that I wouldn't be writing about this for a while. On Sunday when the phone rang, I expected it to be Prissy calling it arrange for our next visit - we'd been trying to work that out for a couple of weeks.  It wasn't.

I think I first met Allen at the gym.  We both worked out at the same place with the same trainer.  I didn't talk to him much more than to just say hello.  I don't go to the gym to talk.  Somehow I learned that he was the guy who had opened the pottery studio uptown.  I remember being kind of in awe of that.  

I stopped in the shop a few times over the years.  I'd always stop if I saw that there was a sale.  Sometimes Mom and I would fight over who was going to get the piece that we both wanted.  I bought a good bit of pottery.  

Then, Catherine Ware talked me into going up there for lessons. I wasn't sure that I had time for that, but I thought I'd give it a try for a month and see how it went.  Allen became my teacher.  He started me out the first night with trying to center a pound of clay. We made a cup. To be fair, he mostly made the cup, but I did touch it a time or two. I discovered that making pottery was very, very frustrating.  I remember one time, I'd worked and worked to get a ball of clay centered and finally had. Allen was sitting there on his stool watching and coaching. I sat back so proud that I'd finally done it and he hit it and knocked it off center.  I wanted to kill him.

Allen became my friend.  My good friend.  It was so hard to know that he was sick.  While I am glad that he didn't suffer any longer than he did, I am so selfish and sad that he's not here anymore.  I want him here dammit! I wasn't ready to say good bye.  I didn't get to say good bye.  I didn't get to say thank you.

These pictures aren't great...

This is Arts on the Square from 8 years ago and my first attempt to sell pottery. Allen had to talk me into doing this.  He had explained that if I was going to keep making pots, I needed to start selling pots, but I was pretty sure that nothing I made was good enough to sell.  He offered to share a booth with me so I'd have the guts to do it. He took the pictures of my work to send in with our application.  Then he loaded up his van with tables, shelves, and pots and drove one block down Lafayette Street from his studio to the court square.  Through it all, he was explaining what to do...load the pots in first and put tables and shelves on top of them.  That way when you unload, you have the things you need first out first.

Last week, I signed up to do Arts on the Square again.  It won't be the same.  

Here Allen is at his wheel in the studio...working and I'm sure talking.  I've spent a good bit of time over the past eight and a half years standing where I was to take this picture.  From this spot I could see what his hands were doing as he worked.  

And this.

This was the last time Allen was able to make it to his studio and the last time that I got to see him.

 I keep thinking that soon I should be cried out and I'll run out of tears.  So far that hasn't happened and I fear that it won't for a long while.

Thank you for everything, Allen.  I love you.