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You can't draw strict dividing lines between Rich's various communities. His family blends into his music friends, who blend into the Suspects crowd, who blend into the Burner crowd. (Full circle, when Juliet and Susan were alive-- the Burners blended into his family.) I am trying to plan an event that folds together all the various crowds. There may be some elements that repel each other, but I think when we bring everyone together, they will find that they have a lot to share.
This is just one of the reasons that I'm accepting the offer from some of the "new" crowd to use their space for the memorial service. The main reason is availability: because Rich was part of their community, they will throw open their doors to all of us on a weekend for a good long chunk of time. We can have the service, then hang out, eat, exchange all the Rich stories, and listen to his incredible music friends jamming for hours, rather then keep to a strict schedule and hustle everyone else so that the venue can host its next booking.
The Worcester Artist Group (on Webster Street, to disambiguate-- I think there's more than one Worcester Artist Group) has a funky, artsy space. There's a space that might be just big enough to cram in the hordes who want to come, with a stage, and an interesting spiral of screens for projecting the slide show. There's also more cozy hang-out space, parking, bathrooms, a kitchen, and a fire pit. One could put on quite the event there.
However, being an artist colony, it's also grubby, untidy, in disrepair, and has some rather disconcerting art on display. In its natural, un-spruced-up state, it would freak out some of the people who are coming: his square and respectable Uncle Timmy, my mother, my boss, his old friends from Boston College High School. We can pull this off... if we can manage to make the place look respectable. If not, I am going to get flak about this from his family for years. They are rather upset about how bohemian Rich's life had been of late, especially given that this involved lifestyle factors that may have had something to do with his untimely demise. So, while I'm not going to hide it from them that he was hanging out with a bunch of hippies (or whatever you call them these days), I don't want to rub their noses in that fact at the memorial service.
Persis thinks we can pull this off. We do need, at a minimum, to cover up the ugly psychedelia with the skulls and eyeballs, and hang cloth to hide insulation in the upper parts of the walls where there's no drywall, and clean and tidy and put things elsewhere and clean some more. Hopefully it will clean up enough to be presentable.
So, you know all that fantastic energy that showed up at my house and went into cleaning sprees and filling the dumpster and putting all our stuff into boxes? Is there some of that energy still left? Or can some of it be re-generated? The house is well in hand for now, I think; the dumpster is being made ready to go, and the last stash of other people's Burning Man gear is scheduled to leave this week. Rich Sr. is now in residence and we even have the cable television working for him. (Thanks,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
koshmom!) So I am not hyperventilating about the house. I would request that, if you want to do something for me, and for Rich, and for the community, that you bottle that energy and that desire to help, and bring it out again in early June to transform the space we have into a place for an awesome, lovely, and memorable memorial service. Thank you!!!
This is just one of the reasons that I'm accepting the offer from some of the "new" crowd to use their space for the memorial service. The main reason is availability: because Rich was part of their community, they will throw open their doors to all of us on a weekend for a good long chunk of time. We can have the service, then hang out, eat, exchange all the Rich stories, and listen to his incredible music friends jamming for hours, rather then keep to a strict schedule and hustle everyone else so that the venue can host its next booking.
The Worcester Artist Group (on Webster Street, to disambiguate-- I think there's more than one Worcester Artist Group) has a funky, artsy space. There's a space that might be just big enough to cram in the hordes who want to come, with a stage, and an interesting spiral of screens for projecting the slide show. There's also more cozy hang-out space, parking, bathrooms, a kitchen, and a fire pit. One could put on quite the event there.
However, being an artist colony, it's also grubby, untidy, in disrepair, and has some rather disconcerting art on display. In its natural, un-spruced-up state, it would freak out some of the people who are coming: his square and respectable Uncle Timmy, my mother, my boss, his old friends from Boston College High School. We can pull this off... if we can manage to make the place look respectable. If not, I am going to get flak about this from his family for years. They are rather upset about how bohemian Rich's life had been of late, especially given that this involved lifestyle factors that may have had something to do with his untimely demise. So, while I'm not going to hide it from them that he was hanging out with a bunch of hippies (or whatever you call them these days), I don't want to rub their noses in that fact at the memorial service.
Persis thinks we can pull this off. We do need, at a minimum, to cover up the ugly psychedelia with the skulls and eyeballs, and hang cloth to hide insulation in the upper parts of the walls where there's no drywall, and clean and tidy and put things elsewhere and clean some more. Hopefully it will clean up enough to be presentable.
So, you know all that fantastic energy that showed up at my house and went into cleaning sprees and filling the dumpster and putting all our stuff into boxes? Is there some of that energy still left? Or can some of it be re-generated? The house is well in hand for now, I think; the dumpster is being made ready to go, and the last stash of other people's Burning Man gear is scheduled to leave this week. Rich Sr. is now in residence and we even have the cable television working for him. (Thanks,
koshmom!) So I am not hyperventilating about the house. I would request that, if you want to do something for me, and for Rich, and for the community, that you bottle that energy and that desire to help, and bring it out again in early June to transform the space we have into a place for an awesome, lovely, and memorable memorial service. Thank you!!!
