Stu Jenks' Fezziwig Press

Circles & Spirals: Stu Jenks' Newsletter #8: July 8th, 2022

"Annie & Johnny Beeton's Graves, Oak Grove Cemetery, Lexington, VA" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks.

Eleven years ago yesterday, my mother Mary Jenks died. I could write a lot about her. Frankly I already have written a lot about Mom. Click on this link to my Amazon pages and you can buy/read two books about Mom. Dementia Blues and Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair) All I'll say tonight is I miss her. Yes she was a force of nature and she tended to push people away with her narcissistic neediness, but she's wasn't all bad. Actually, I'd say she was at least 1/2 good. Not a ringing endorsement I know, but Mary was a glass half full or half empty, depending on how you looked at her. You might be able to say the same for me too. For all of us perhaps. Anywho, love you Mom. May your spirit roam free. 

"Mary as a newlywed, Rocky Mount, North Carolina (c) Late 1940's. Photograph taken by my father, Stu Jenks. 

Our main story tonight is this. Again, I've already written about this before too, but he's a summery.

Johnny and Annie Beeton were my great-great-grandparents. Their third child Ella, born in 1863, was my great grandmother who married a Jenks, and off we went. But Johnny and Annie, it appears, and I've made some assumptions from viewing the partial record, were not like most Southerners of their time. Or may be they were.

Johnny worked at the Virginia Military Institute in Lexington, Virginia before The Civil War. He and Annie already had two kids. It appears Annie and Johnny were happy. Then war broke out. Then the renowned and quite-crazy teacher at VMI, Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, drafted the entire student body of VMI and most of the able bodied men in Lexington, into his new regiment. Johnny knew, much like many at VMI knew, that Stonewall was at best, a reckless crazy man and at worse, an egomaniacal bully. Johnny quickly got transferred out of Stonewall's Brigade and spend The Civil War, making munitions in Richmond. It appears he was quite good at making guns and bullets. After the War, he returned to Lexington, and worked at Washington and Lee College, just down the street from VMI. He and Annie had 11 children in all. Yep, 11, 10 who lived into adulthood. Sadly, Annie died in 1883 at the young age of 45. Given the large grave marker Johnny build for her, and other information I have gleaned, it appears Johnny loved Annie very much, and I think Annie loved him too. Johnny never remarried. Ella Beeton married into the Jenks clan and that history is ripe with controversy and hurtfulness, but prior to that, it appears the Beetons were a large happy family. 

Now, in the art world, particularly back in the 1970's and 80's, there was this thing call Conceptual Art, art that was more about the idea than about the object; art that couldn't be bought and sold that easily; art that was only remembered if you filmed and photographed it or experienced it live, in the moment. Conceptual Art is the mother of what we now call Performance Art. 

Back in art school, I did a bunch of Conceptual Art: burying myself in fire brick at the center of campus; leashing myself to the front porch of 608 Airport Road for 12 hours, not speaking for that time and hoping roommates brought me food and drink; building a brick sculpture from 1152 fire bricks, one a day, everyday, for thirty days, taken one down and then building another; and most famously, painting Fatal Figures on the streets of Chapel Hill where all the fatal traffic accidents had occurred from 1970 to 1978. Yep, I did all that, and I have the slides to prove. 

I made my current artistic career mostly as a nocturnal photographer, selling image rights and prints, making a little coin from my music, and producing a number of books. Conceptual Art was not made by me for decades. 

Until last week. 

During my travels since I moved back to North Carolina, I've visited many cemeteries. Some, during certain times of the year, are decorated with Confederate Flags, mostly the awful battle flag "The Stars and Bars", but of late with the National Confederate Flag, with its circle of stars on a blue field, and with its bands of white and red. They are trying to be politically correct. Good for them, but they fail. Sorry, the Confederates were traitors to the Union, not matter how much you might admire Robert E. Lee and the aforementioned Stonewall Jackson. It was a war to free the slaves and I'm glad as fuck, that the South lost. 

And I believe my great great grandparents, Annie and Johnny Beeton, thought The War Between The States was a stupid and ridiculous idea as well. At the very least, foolhardy. Why else would Johnny transfer away for General Jackson? He knew how crazy he was. He worked around him. But he also felt pressure that he had to serve, whether he wanted to or not. The southern Home Guard, a group of disreputable men who made southern men enlist during the War, made sure that Johnny had to go. Luckily, he found a safe place to serve, in a gun factory in Richmond, Virginia. 

And lets face it. Had he stayed to fight along side Stonewall Jackson, he would have probably been killed or died in the first year. He wouldn't have been able to come home and visit Annie during the Fall of 1862 to conceive my great grandmother Ella. And I won't be here. 

Repeat. I won't be here. 

So last week, I took a National Confederate Flag I had stolen from a cemetery somewhere (guilty as charged), and wrote on it with a black pen 'He Fought Reluctantly'. Then I drove the two hours north to Johnny Beeton's grave and placed in the the ground. 

Hardly anyone was there on that day. I took my pics. I also visited my great great grandparents on the Jenks side and my great great great grandparents on the Beeton side. I also looked at the large grave market for Stonewall Jackson and thought, "What an asshole." I always think that. Jackson was a crazy man who got thousands killed, fighting for the right for white men to own black people. Almost every time I visit Annie and Johnny, strangers pass by to pay their respects to Stonewall. They are almost always loud. They almost always don't notice I'm 30 feet way, staring at the gravestone of Annie and Johnny. On a good day, I just shake my head at their rudeness. On a bad day, I whisper "Would you all shut the fuck up?", hoping the negative vibe carries to their souls. Never does. 

Anyway, Johnny and Annie, I made a piece of Conceptual Art for you all. If you were alive today with your 19th century perspectives, you might think me a little mad, a little crazy. Can't really argue with you there. 

Love, light and luck, 

Stu

Dia De Los Muertos at the Jenks family plot in Lancaster County, Virginia.

I live here in Greensboro, North Carolina now, but I'm really from Tucson, Arizona.

Part of the border culture, is the annual Dia de los Muestos celebrations. In Sonora, Mexico and Sonoran Arizona, many families on the nights and days around November 2nd, go to their family cemetery plots and clean the graves. They also bring favorite foods and beverages of the deceased, and fresh marigold flowers to decorate the graves of their loved ones. Many stay throughout the nights, drinking and eating, telling funny stories about the deceased, having a good time with friends and family, both living and dead. It's a big deal. Some towns in Sonora, Mexico will have parades honoring the dead. In Tucson, we have the All Souls' Procession, where many thousands of people march through downtown, dressed as the dead, or with placards acknowledging their dead loved ones. A large steel urn filled of written prayers is taken to a site near the Santa Cruz river, where the urn is set ablaze, sending prayers skyward. It's a big deal. (I've been lucky enough to be one of the All Souls photographers over the decades.)

Having moved back to the South, I realize that I had an opportunity to go full-on Day of the Dead with my ancestors. On the way to the Jenks family plot the other day, I visited my grandparents and my great-grandparents in Richmond, along with visiting the grave of my murdered great aunt Bertie. The story of Aunt Bertie's murder and what happened to her two young children can be found at this link. After visiting my folks and my sister, I placed flowers and candles at my great-great grandparents and my great-great-great grandparents graves in Oak Grove Cemetery in Lexington, Virginia. It was kinda-sorta on the way home.

But the main event was at Mary's, Stuart's, and Pamela's graves at St. Mary's Whitechapel Episcopal Church, in Lancaster County, Virginia, near the shores of the Rappahannock River.

Some background regarding St. Mary's Whitechapel and my mother's religious life:

My mother Mary was a big deal in the Diocese of Virginia, being on the Standing Committee and committing her life to service in the Episcopal Church. The rector at St. Mary's in the late 90's and early 2000's was a delight. Loved Mom. Loved trains. However, the rector after him, was an ex-divorce attorney who became a priest late in life. She was frankly horrible, a control freak, pushing mother out of her roles at St. Mary's. Granted, my mother was a force of nature and was a pain in the neck on more than one occasion, but that priest could have fired my mother with a bit more empathy and grace, given she is working with an elderly woman who is doing all this for free. It broke my mother's heart. The current priest at St. Mary's is a very nice woman who I've only met once. Seems very grounded, sweet, and genuine.

Some background regarding on the St. Mary's Whitechapel Graveyard:

The church and the graveyard have been around since 1669. Yeah. 1669. There have been in the past a lot of rules and regulations regarding what you can leave at the graves. No potted plants. No toys. No plastic flowers. No this, no that. They used to enforce this rigidly, but from what I saw the other night, not so much. Potted plants are there. Small figurines are there. A recent burial from a few months ago still had its wilting flowers and the cardboard photo of the deceased. The current priest I believe is doing the right thing, being more flexible. Then again, when she sees the mess I made she might think differently.

I looked all over for marigolds and only found a few late in the process. Trader Joe's sunflowers did just fine.

The food for each person consisted of these:

For Mom, cottage cheese. She loved her cottage cottage.

For Dad, a can of tuna, a can of collard greens, and a single tuna wrap from Trader Joe's. (I ate the second tuna wrap.) Dad loved his tuna fish.

And Pamela, it's bagels.

Many of you have heard me tell the Pamela Jenks Bagel Story. Of her yelling at the Harris Teeter clerk in the frozen food isle in Raleigh.

"Excuse me sir. Can you tell me where the fucking frozen begals are?!!!" Clerk running toward us. "Madam, please don't use that kind of language." Pamela yelling, "Why the fuck not!!!" Clerk's brain going into vapor lock. Him, slowly walking away. Me, just standing there smiling. Not my first Pamela Jenks rodeo.

Pamela yelled and cussed everywhere she went. She wasn't crazy crazy, but she was Southern crazy.

As far as drink goes, that was problematic. All the beverages would have been alcoholic. Me being in recovery, driving with three liquid rattlesnakes in the back of my truck was not a good idea. I went with cans of Arizona Ice Tea, with what they liked to drink written in sharpie on the side of the cans. "Pamela liked scotch." "Dad liked beer." "Mom liked wine." It worked just fine. (Throughout the night, I actually drank Pamela's iced tea. It was very good.)

I placed the food, drink, flowers and candles at each of my loved ones' graves. Put one single flower on my grave, just to include me in all the fun. The Virgin of Guadalupe candles really brought it all together.

I arrived around 5 p.m. and stayed throughout the night, only leaving around 3 a.m. so I could make it to Lexington to place flowers and candles at the Beeton's and Jenks' graves. I place a towel on the "OK God Let's Do It" bench to keep my butt warm, and I played a little woo-woo music on my phone, specifically Steve Roach and Kevin Brahany's "Western Spaces". Hearing that music made me miss Utah and Arizona terribly, but it was still very nice to hear it softly echo throughout the forest.

It's hard to put in words the powers of those few hours. Sometimes if you say too much about a spiritual experience it lessens it resonance in your life. This is one of those times. I felt like crying but I didn't. Just felt sad, mostly because Mary is gone. I miss Mom.

At one point, I walked down to the road to see if I could see the burning candles. I could see the one on top of Dad's headstone. 'Man,' I thought. 'If you are driving down Lively Road tonight and looked up at just the right time, you will see that candle. Won't that be delightfully spooky.'

It was a very good night. Next year, I will return again to honor the dead.

I hope the priest doesn't feel mad at me about all of this. My guess is she will roll with it. But I did leave a candle burning, many flowers and food lying around. My guess is the deer and other wildlife will make short work of the cottage cheese, the tuna wrap and the bagels. The raccoons will have a tough time though, getting into the tuna fish can and the collard greens can, but those little guys are pretty resourceful. You never know.

Rest in peace, Mom, Dad, and Pamela. You were not always the best family, but you are my family.

There is an old metaphysical saying, that our parents did a shitty job, but they did the best they could with the skills they had, and in that paradox, can be find peace and compassion.

I found peace and compassion the other night, in the dark, at my family's graves.

I'm blessed.

#allsoulsday, #diadelosmuertos, #thejenks, #stujenks.

A free epub of Dementia Blues for y'all (and a hidden Leviticus track too)

A writer friend today suggested I submit one of my self-pub books to this book contest thingy. Win between $1000 to $5000 if they pick your book. It's a bit of a scam, our $65 submission costs supporting whoever the hell Winning Writers are, but I had that much cash in my Paypal and thought what the hell.

The tricky part was which book. Initially I thought Step Zero, but that's too long. Then I thought Victor Mothershead, but that's Book 4 in the Step Zero series.

Then I thought Dementia Blues, my best selling book of the 15 books I've produced. I glanced through the epub before I submitted it and thought, "This is actually pretty good. It holds up."

So I uploaded it to the contest.

But you know I ain't going to win.

But you all can.

Download Dementia Blues

Above (and at the end of this post) is the epub edition of Dementia Blues by me, Stu Jenks. Designed by Gail Cross with the photographs and everything. It's a sad but sweet book. I think you'll like it.

And even though the chances of me winning this book contest are slim to none, you can win a free book right now. Pretty sweet, eh?

Love you guys.

Keep your lamp trimmed and burning,

Stu.

Download Dementia Blues

P.S. Hidden track: I'll give away my last book Cherry Picking Leviticus too. What the heck. I'm in a generous mood. (If you feel like donating to the cause, my Paypal is [email protected]). Be safe out there.

Download Cherry Picking Leviticus by Stu Jenks

All 8 1/2" x 11" A/P archival pigment prints by Stu Jenks for $25, shipping, handling and taxes included...

Image: "Queen Esther Baptist Church, Lancaster, Virginia" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks (Just down River Road from Victoria's house. Love that luscious red carpet. And for you nocturnals out there, it was handheld. Rare for me.)

In this time of making photos on iPhones and Macbook Pros and only looking on screens, I forget I'm a old-school guy. I make a 8 1/2 x 11 work print on archival paper of EVERY image I make. EVERY one. It's the only way, for me, to accurately check for color shift, density, composition, etc. I really like my iPad screen but it's no way to make a good print.

And I have hundreds, if not thousands, of work prints artist proofs at my studio.

If you see an image of mine on The StuBlog or on my old website or on the Fezziwig Press Store or in any of my books, there's a beautiful small print in a box somewhere, perhaps with your name on it. And since I'm organized, I can find it.

Many of you can't afford my larger prints. I understand. I don't have an extra 50 or 100 lying around either. But I do have an extra $20 for stuff I really like.

So if you see an image of mine on any of my sites or in any of my books and you want it, it's yours for $25, shipping, handling and tax included. (I believe in paying taxes, sales and otherwise.)

Just email me at my facebook page or through the StuBlog or at [email protected], and tell me what print you would like or just pull the jpeg and send that to me.

I was just watching the Tarhells lose today in basketball, working on images at my computer when I thought, 'I bet people don't realize I have boxes of work prints here.'

You all do now.

Love and light,

Stu

p.s. Ignore the catagories belows. The computer went wacky. Another reason why I prefer a print in the hand as opposed to an image in The Cloud.

"The Jenks in 1971"

"The Jenks in 1971" (c) ???, 1971 and Stu Jenks, 2012

Found this in my mother's wallet. Was taken at some photo studio in Raleigh, North Carolina in 1971. I was 16 or 17, Pamela was around 21, Dad was 49ish, and Mary was in her early 40's.

I put this up on the StuBlog primarily to show that my sister was once quite the pretty woman. Those horned-rimmed glasses though don't help my parents' looks, and sweet Jesus, did I have terrible teeth back then with the braces and such or what? Yikes. And my long hair just drove my Dad nuts. This was 1971 in the South, you know. And no, I don't know exactly why I decided to part my hair on the right, making a big blob of hairishness. My guess it was I knew if I parted it in the middle, my father and I would come to blows.

But wasn't Pamela a pretty girl?

And i did fiddle with this image a little, but I don't believe in photoshopping away the cracks and lost paper in old photos. They are the lovely scars of time in pictures. And yes, this once was a color photo. Guess it wasn't printed on archival paper (chuckles).

Now available, on the Apple IPad: The Transpersonal Papers (1861-2010) and Bozo In Love

Been a long time coming for The Transpersonal Papers (1861-2010).

Three editors, two proofreaders, two designers, four printers, and hours, days, weeks, months, years, lifetimes, (I know I'm overstating), of writing, traveling, shooting, editing, remembering, hiking, and more writing, shooting, and editing, but I'm not complaining. No, no, no.

And apologies for not having the dough right now, to print The Transpersonal Papers as a coffee-table book as I had originally planned. ($10,000, it would have cost. Maybe someday.) But you now can buy it, for $14.95, as an Ebook on the Apple IPad, and I expect it to be available within a couple days on the Nook and the Kindle as well.

I just looked at it on my new IPad. The photos, text and design look grand.

And as an extra surprise, Bozo In Love is now up on IBooks too, ($9.95), as well as the rest of my catalog: Flame Spirals, Hoop Dancing, and Dementia Blues, on IBooks, Nook and Kindle.

Just in time for Christmas.

And don't worry. All but The Transpersonal Papers can still be bought as a book book through Fezziwig Press. I have plenty. Just go to www.fezziwigpressonline.com, for the hardbounds and paperbacks, but go to ITunes, today, (and Kindle and Nook, soon) for the ebooks.

Heavy sigh from my third story apartment balcony. I look out onto the Tucson city lights in the valley below. Cold, dry air embraces me. I inhale deeply. Exhale.

A very good night in the desert.

Think I'll make a cup of coffee with egg nog and play some Angry Birds on my new IPad.

Time to celebrate.

 

Rev. Steve Keplinger's Sermon at the funeral of Mary Elton Saum Jenks

Rev. Steve Keplinger's Sermon at the funeral of Mary Elton Saum Jenks, Grace St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Tucson, Arizona, July, 30th, 2011.

[Photo: "Mary's Leaning, Tucson, Arizona" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks.]

    In the name of the God who is present with us in our deepest grief.  Amen.

    There are not many things more difficult in life than what you have just heard Stu Jenks achieve.  Capturing the essence of any individual who has lived a full and complete life is always a formidable task.  Doing so for someone as complex as Mary Jenks is darn near impossible.  But accomplishing all this when you are the one living in the land of intense personal loss and grief, well, that is almost unthinkable.  In the midst of losing both his mom and his sister, Stu has done this beautiful thing.  Thank you Stu for being willing to put yourself in this place of extreme vulnerability.  We are all the richer for hearing your Mom’s story from your lips.
    As Stu and others have shared their memories of Mary with me, I too have struggled with a way to capture such a brilliantly enigmatic character in so many words.  Mary was devilishly difficult to pigeonhole.  She was the epitome of the classic, graceful, elegant southern belle and she had all the refined sensibilities that go with it.  But at the exact same time, she was so opinionated and forceful that she did not want to let you up until you saw things her way.  Similarly, she was so fiercely and proudly Episcopalian that many were often a bit nervous to tell Mary that they were in another denomination.  But simultaneously, Mary’s theology was all about full inclusion of everyone and she absolutely and unequivocally believed that God is way too big for one religion. 
    While the most well known colloquial way to describe Episcopalians is to call them God’s frozen chosen, and while Mary was the most Episcopal like person most have ever experienced, Mary was never frozen a day in her life.  No one had any difficulty knowing exactly what was on her mind and no one ever stated their position more emphatically or with more fervor.  And while Mary had a deep and abiding relationship with God, the last thing she would tell you is that she was chosen.  In fact, as Stu has made clear to us, Mary believed we were all chosen and that Episcopalians certainly had no inside track to anything.
    This afternoon, we will all take part in the act of communion as a part of this service because it was so instrumental to Mary’s belief system.  For her, communion was as powerful an act as any of us can ever take part, because it captures the essence of the beloved community.  She was all about community, but at the same time, she was more of a rugged individualist than John Wayne. 
    Finally, since the earliest days of Anglicanism during the reign of Elizabeth I, this has been the church of the Via Media, the middle way.  We have always been about finding a way to allow very diverse philosophies to live together.  Our goal has always been to be a church where people could worship together despite our theological differences.  Never has an individual been more steeped in Anglicanism and the Via Media than Mary Jenks.  But in the midst of that Anglicanism, all of you who experienced the real Mary know that she, in the nicest, most southern way possible, made it crystal clear that it was, “My way or the highway.”
    How do we reconcile such a dichotomy?  More importantly, how did Mary?  This afternoon, I would suggest to all of you that for Mary, it was not difficult at all.  In fact, I would suggest that she never saw any of this as contradictory in the least.  She saw it as a simple matter of living her faith.  She saw it as embracing the very heart of Anglicanism.
    If there is a standard methodology for attacking Anglicanism and the whole idea of The Via Media, it is that this church does not stand for anything.  Via Media is often heard in today’s culture as a theology that does not come down in favor of or against anything.  It is heard as a theology for the wishy-washy.
    But as Mary Jenks knew so well, that is not what Via Media means at all.  Via Media is about balance, it is about realizing that Newton’s third law of Physics applies to faith also, for every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction.  In Taoism, this is referred to as the yin/yang.  In Native American tradition, it is called walking the red road.  The point is, it is about balance in your life and holding the tension that exists when things are not black and white.  What Mary knew better than all of us is that this is the nature of the world.  As much as we would all love a world where evil and good are easily discernible from one another, none of us actually believes that.  We might want our religion to be simplistic because of the complex world surrounding us, but we know darn well that it is not and cannot be “God said it, I believe it and that settles it.”  Mary knew that this does not settle anything.  The key for a helpful faith then, is to teach us how to live in ambiguity, to live in the tension of the place between being a southern lady and also getting across your point.  The tension between being a fiercely loyal Episcopalian while also being a universalist.
    That is the Via Media that Mary embraced, a faith that was never for one second wishy washy, a faith that kept life in balance by being the enigma that the world saw. 
    It is this faith that allowed Mary Jenks to see beyond the notion that church is all about “making nice.”  It is what allowed her to take sides when Anglicanism came under attack from the inside in the last 20 years.  When most sat around during the battles going on in this Communion and said, “Can’t we all just get along?”, it was Mary Jenks deep faith, steeped in the theology of Anglicanism that convinced her that she had no choice but to defend the ordination of women in this church.  It is what convinced her that she had no choice but to stand for up for full inclusion of gays and lesbians in this church because she knew darn well that this is what Jesus would have done.  She was able to do so even though almost everyone in her generation disagreed with her, because she understood the nature of Anglicanism and was able to interpret the words of Jesus for a new time and place.
    That beloved, is an amazing accomplishment.  But Mary Jenks went far beyond that.  She made this bold stand in the midst of the greatest siege of The Episcopal Church.  Because while the press was concentrating on the flamboyant events occurring in the Diocese of San Joaquin and Pittsburgh, the real battle for this church was going on in Mary’s home Diocese of Virginia.  When Gene Robinson was elected Bishop of New Hampshire, the last piece was put in place.  Those who were still fuming within the church about women’s ordination, saw this as their opportunity to storm the bastille.  They would start in Virginia, because many churches there, including Mary’s home parish of St. Mary’s White Chapel, were incorporated before The Episcopal Church had formed.  If these properties were parishes before the Episcopal Church existed, they argued, then they could not legally be owned by The Episcopal Church, giving them the opportunity to not just leave the wider church, but take the property with them.  It was a brilliant strategy.
    What the defectors did not count on however, was Mary Jenks.  In the midst of it all, she stood firmly and resolutely with her Bishop and her friend, Peter Lee.  In the end, the coups would fail.  Mary stood for the Gospel and for the protection of Anglicanism and a church where everyone was welcome and included, even those who disagreed with her.
    I have to tell you, I cannot help but feel a bit cheated for not having had the opportunity to experience Mary in all her regal feistiness.  I have no doubt that she had the ability to be a royal pain, but it is also obvious that it was this same fierce character that gave her the ability to make such a strong impact on the world around her.  Her enigmatic ways went a long way to keeping intact the heart of The Episcopal Church and helping others to realize that all of us are children of God.
    The spirit and chutzpah of Mary Jenks is exactly what this church needs right now and in the years ahead.  It is exactly what Jesus taught us to be.  Mary’s service on the Standing Committee of the Diocese of Virginia and her role as a women’s historian in the church will not soon be forgotten.  Her love of church music and her years of service as a choir director will be a major part of her legacy.  But it will be her fiercely loyal protection of her friends and those who were being oppressed that will always make Mary a saint for me. 
    May each of us have the courage to follow her example and be an enigma to the world.  May each of us learn from her how to live in ambiguity and enjoy every moment of it.  May each of us relish every moment of life and always stand proudly with anyone and everyone who has been rejected by others, just as Mary taught us.  Amen.
 
  

Mary Elton Saum Jenks: October 31st, 1926 - July 7th, 2011

Images: "Rincon Ocotillos: For Mary Jenks" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks & "Mary On The Fourth Of July" (c) 2010 Stu Jenks

Mary Elton Saum Jenks
October 31st, 1926 - July 7th, 2011

    Mary Elton Saum Jenks died July 7th, 2011 at Crossroads Adult Care Center in Tucson, Arizona of complications from dementia. She was 84 years old. Mary was born in Alexandria, Virginia into a family of landed gentry. She attended Duke University in North Carolina, graduated from Duke pre-med, and married Stuart Carlyle Jenks Sr. soon after. They were married 52 years until his death in 2001. Mary was very active in The Episcopal Church, from being choir director at St. Mary’s Whitechapel in Lively, Virginia, to being a member of The Standing Committee of the Diocese of Virginia. She is survived by her son, Stuart C. Jenks Jr. of Tucson, Arizona, her brother, Courtney Saum of Silver City, New Mexico and a few nieces and nephews. She was preceded in death by her sisters Virginia and Nan, her husband Stuart and her daughter Pamela. Memorial services for Mary will be held at Grace St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, 2331 East Adams Street, Tucson, Arizona, on Saturday, July 30th at 2 p.m.. Another funeral for Mary and the burials of both Pamela and Mary Jenks will be at St. Mary's Whitechapel Episcopal Church, 5940 White Chapel Road, Lancaster, Virginia on September 17th, 2011 at 2 p.m.
    In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to Casa de la Luz Foundation, 400 West Magee Road, Tucson, Arizona 85704  

 

"Mary's Mysteries"

"Mary's Mysteries" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

    After more than six months with a vacant apartment next to mine, a new neighbor has moved in. I’ve had quiet neighbors and awful neighbors over the last nine years. Only time will tell. Worst case, I can always move, but I would so hate to leave my little apartment in the sky.
    Then again, I could be Mary.
    Last Friday afternoon, she was curled up in her bed, neither fully asleep nor all awake. I raised the head of her bed so she could watch the end of the Arizona/Memphis game, but she showed little interest, even when I was jumping up and down after Arizona won.
    I talked. She listened. She didn’t say much. She offered me the imaginary lint from her fingers like she often does and I took it. I told her more of my time at last weekend’s Festival Of Books, but I never got a smile out of her. I can always get a smile out of Mom. Not that day. Perhaps she’ll grin when I visit her later today after the Arizona/Texas game.
    The staff has begun facing the changes in Mary over the last month. Wendy doesn’t want to see Mary die, for she loves her so much, but even Wendy is coming to terms with this new decline.
    She’s not eating very much. She’s not talking as much. She’s losing weight. She has a new pain in her chest. And she has no interest in sports.
    I still enjoy talking with Mom, touching her, joking with her, but I’m thinking the end may be only a few months away. Maybe weeks. I know I said that before, a year ago, and two years ago too, when Mom didn’t get out of bed for days on end. Maybe Mary will rally like she has done before, but I don’t know.
    Some mysteries I like: What’s up beyond that next curve in the road? What new people will I meet this week? What kind of conversation will The God Inside and The God Outside have today? How can I be of help?
    Other mysteries, not so much: Will my new neighbor be a good guy? Is that his dishwasher or his stereo I hear right now? When will my mother die?
  

"Mary's Reflection In Apples"

"Mary's Reflection In Apples, Tucson, Arizona" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks