About a week ago, someone very dear to me passed away. Her name was Sue Thompson, and she had a tremendous influence on my life. This blog entry doesn’t have anything to do with living in Senegal… I just wanted to record a few thoughts about Mrs. Thompson, for the record.
Mrs. Thompson taught art in the same school as my dad, who taught music. She began bringing her daughter to our house for private music lessons, and that’s where the close relationship with my family began. I have no idea how or why she came up with this idea, but for most of my childhood, Mrs. Thompson drove to our house in her turquoise woody station wagon, and later, her Volkswagen bug, and picked up the Thompson girls to spend most of Saturday with her. I can only imagine how much of a blessing that must have been for my mom! She remembers holding Wendi in her arms as Mrs. Thompson drove off with the other four little girls, dancing around the room and singing, “We’re free! We’re free!” I remember the years when our own kids were babies and toddlers – what a gift to a young mother to entertain her children for the day.
At Mrs. Thompson’s house, we were introduced to all kinds of art media. We painted with watercolor and acrylics. We sculpted with clay. We made banners with felt on burlap. We did wax batik, and made linoleum prints. We sat for long periods of time as Mrs. Thompson made charcoal portraits of us to give as gifts to our parents. What a treasure of an education! I am sure that my love for art and my choice of profession was due in large part to all that I experienced and learned in Mrs. Thompson’s art studio.
But when I think about all those Saturdays spent with Mrs. Thompson, it isn’t really the art lessons that I remember the most. I remember…
- Music. Mrs. Thompson loved music. She always played 8-track tapes in her car, and I can still remember the sound of her voice as she sang along with “The King and I,” “Oklahoma,” and “The Sound of Music.” (I always thought she looked a lot like the Baroness in that movie!) She loved opera and took us to several performances – I remember my first one was “La Traviata.” My mom always made sure we learned the plots ahead of time, so that we would have some idea of what was going on. Still, I don’t think any of us really loved going to the opera when we were kids – we always sort of “put up with it.” We knew Mrs. Thompson liked it, and sitting through a performance where people were singing in different languages about things we didn’t know much about was a small price to pay indeed, for all the other things we did with her that we loved so much.
- Food. We often went to McDonald’s for lunch. This was a treat for us; our family rarely ate anywhere other than at home. And on the rare occasions when our family did go to McDonald’s, my dad would buy one shake and ask for five little cups, to divide it between us. Mrs. Thompson bought each one of us our own shake – a treat of lavish proportions in our eyes! When we ate lunch at her house, I remember Mrs. Thompson making us “puzzle sandwiches.” She would cut them in three lopsided pieces and we would have to figure out how to put them back together. Sometimes we would have a picnic in the back yard and she would hand things out through the kitchen windows. I remember her giving us Mrs. Butterworth’s maple syrup to pour over vanilla ice cream – another special treat.
- Generous gifts. When we were very young, Mrs. Thompson used to give us nice clothing for Christmas. She gave us baby chicks one Easter – I remember driving home from the farm with them running all over in the back seat of the station wagon. (My mom wasn’t thrilled with that particular gift!) Once, when I was a teenager, she took me on a shopping spree at the local mall for my birthday. She helped me pick out my first perfume – “White Shoulders,” and bought me several different outfits. I remember after I had tried on a few things, I asked her which one she preferred, and she said, “Let’s just get all of them!” What luxury! What fun! When I graduated from high school, she gave me a painting, and when I graduated from college she gave me another. That one is hanging in our dining room here in Africa – it has come with us to every home we have had.
- Just hanging out at the house. My sisters and I loved her freezer and the automatic ice-maker. She would give us sturdy paper towels that had some kind of thread running through them, and we would wrap ice cubes up and eat them like popsicles. We also loved the hidden door inside the bathroom closet that opened up into the attic – we thought that was very cool. There was an amazing willow tree in the backyard, and I loved to climb it.
- Getting into trouble. Once, I locked the bathroom door from the inside, then came out and pulled the door shut behind me. Once, I crossed the road in front of her house to play in the water running down the gutter across the street after a storm. Thankfully, I didn’t misbehave too many times, but I remember feeling badly when I did!
- Mrs. Thompson’s family. We didn’t see Mr. Thompson much when we were at the house. Sometimes he wasn’t there, but sometimes I think he was there and understandably holed himself up in his home office – can you imagine the chaos he escaped?
We didn’t have a clear understanding of family relationships back then, and we would often ask Mrs. Thompson if her “father” was home. (She thought that was funny, although I’ll bet he didn’t agree!) I always thought of Mr. Thompson as having a quiet, solid, kind manner. There was a photo of their son Kenny on the refrigerator. He was standing in front of a pup tent, and I got it in my head that he was away at camp. He was actually in Vietnam. When he came home, they made a huge “Welcome Home Kenny!” banner and put it up in the front of the house. I was very young and had no idea about the war in Vietnam. I remember thinking they were making a really big deal about him coming home from summer camp! Their daughter Gail was a teenager, and not often at home during the day on those Saturdays we spent at the Thompson’s house, but I remember seeing her from time to time. Once I got to see her room, and I thought it was extremely “groovy.” Many years later, I got to know Gail very well when she hosted me for a summer in Virginia. She is a woman of great faith and kindness and generosity. I am sure that Mr. Thompson, Kenny and Gail were not always happy to “share” Mrs. Thompson with a group of noisy, sloppy little girls, but I know I speak for all of us when I express how thankful we are that they put up with us. There’s no way to place a value on what we received over the course of the years in that home, with that special person.
I was able to talk on the phone with Mrs. Thompson not too long before she died. I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to tell her again what a blessing she had been in my life, and for the chance to reminisce a bit about old times. It was a very sad feeling, saying “goodbye” at the end of the call. I knew that most likely it was the last time I would hear her voice this side of heaven. But, I know that I will hear her voice again some day.
“Many still mourn, many still weep
For those that they love who have fallen asleep,
But we have this hope, though our hearts may still ache,
Just one shout from above, and they all will awake,
And in the reunion of joy we will see
Death will be swallowed in sweet victory!”
Until that day comes, I hold tight to the memories of countless Saturdays with Mrs. Thompson, and thank God that I knew her.
Oh, how well I remember that car!
My sisters and I painting in Mrs. Thompson's studio.
