Helen was one of the most wonderful and funniest and wisest people I have ever known. But before I get all sunshiny and like that, it must be said, immediately, that she also had other, darker, qualities: smartass humor, devastating quick comebacks and a terribly frightening, sudden icy stare -- to mention just three. I loved her very much.

And she sang with tremendous feeling. She had a wonderful connection to her unconscious -- especially for tragedies and powerful old hymns. When she sang she helped us feel those archetypal connections within ourselves.

She was very moved when others sang. She and I shared many Kleenex boxes together over the years while listening to our friends sing. Neither of us had any defenses at all when certain people sang and we would cry together and comfort each other.

Many years ago Helen honored me by asking me to become her fiancée. This was one of the proudest moments of my life. (She explained to Marnie, who was sitting next to me at the time, that the engagement would not affect our marriage in any way). I accepted immediately. We have been affianced ever since. Some rather cruel people have suggested to me that Helen would get engaged to just about anybody. Sour grapes, I think. I don't believe Marnie was ever jealous but she did quickly get herself engaged to Bob Copper.

As I think of Helen, many wonderful memories flood my mind. Just one category, as an example, is the group of animals that lived with her over the years. There was Nigel, the sad-faced, old, aristocratic, long-eared dog. All of us who knew him loved to imitate his facial expression. (Use your index fingers to pull down your lower eye lids. Then turn down the edges of your mouth while you hold it slightly open). Riki, was the singing cat named Fred? I think so, but I can't remember for sure. Helen would put Fred on her arm and rub him and say, "Sing, Fred, sing!" And Fred would mournfully sing, "Me-e-e-o-o-w. Me-O-O-o-o-o-w!" Anyone who wanted to could then rapidly pat Fred on his back to make him sound like a motor-boat while he was singing. Fred seemed to love it. Helen had many other pets over the years and a goodly percentage of them were remarkable and/or bizarre. We all know that pets become like their masters.

Music was only one of the areas where she was well grounded and well connected with her unconscious. While talking with her she would often ask such pertinent questions or express such unexpected and seemingly appropriate emotions that I would be jolted to a new connection with my own feelings. After a visit with Helen (besides having my sides ache from the laughter that always seemed to be present in her home) I often felt a new sanity and wholeness. Several of her other friends have told me about having similar experiences with her.

So many other memories of Helen are rolling through my mind as I write this that it's hard to stop. Everybody remembers the "Washed In the Blood of the Lamb" story at Fox Hollow. Do you remember the times that she sang the line "Casting my eye backwards . . . ?" Do you remember the singing on her birthday in the cold old church near Montpelier? Do you remember . . . ? Etc. Etc. The stories just go on and on. All of us who knew her will be sharing these memories and telling these stories for the rest of our lives.

That's important, I think. Helen and her wonderful presence, and her antics, will not be forgotten during our lifetimes. In that sense she will live on – very much like some of the people in her songs.

Farewell my friend,

-Alan Oakes