Thursday, June 3, 2010

In Memory of Laurie 
One of my strongest memories of Laurie is of her buzzing around the Old Fire Station on Thursdays and Fridays as part of her volunteer work in the Have a Chat Café. She would pop a tea towel over her shoulder (with a very camp tongue in cheek) and carry around trays of tea and coffee, cakes and biscuits to serve those who came to the café to catch up with friends and neighbours. 
Laurie was passionate about the Glebites with whom she built relationships and friendships, not just the ones who frequented the Old Fire Station, but also the ones who didn’t get out as much- the older women (“her ladies”) who Laurie used to check in on and make sure were ok as well as taking them a batch of bread each Friday morning almost without fail. Laurie in her service of others not only felt useful (which she most certainly was) but also found what she needed in the comfort and strength of local friendships.  
Despite constant chronic pain, Laurie was almost always the life of the party, always had a joke to share, always had an Elvis song in her heart and was always looking out for others and lending her ear to those who needed a chat. Laurie was also very passionate about the rights of women and the rights of the gay community. I always admired her for the way she spoke about these issues and shared about her past experiences, difficulties and activism. 
Laurie, you will be and already are sadly, sadly missed by all those who love you and had the pleasure of knowing you. I will always think of you whenever I hear or see Elvis paraphernalia, whenever I see the green and purple colours of women’s rights that you taught me about, and whenever I see a rainbow symbolising the resilience and diversity of the gay community. Rest in peace and comfort.  
Bec Reidy, Glebe CDP

SATURDAY IN GLEBE  
The day dawns brisk and cool
Early dew dancing on green leaves
Morning sun peering timidly through clouds
Warming air, drying pavements
Humidity hangs like a cloak
Shrouding rooftops
Stifling sound
In the distance the markets begin to hum
Erecting stalls, displaying merchandise
Washing hung
Pathways swept
Yawning and breakfast noises
breaking the silence
Welcoming the weekend
Children play and fight
Dogs bark; birds sing
The pub calls to its early patrons
Letters spill out of the box
The house is silent save for the
gentle whirring of an ancient fan
She lies quietly atop the bed
Eyes closed, still and pale
A full ashtray and a note her sole companions
She lived; she loved;
She laughed; she cried
Pain now permanently erased
Her day is over
Never to return
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Marla Priest

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