One of the things I most want to share with the world is the joy, the unbelievable good fortune, of finding the center of my life early, and for more than sixty years.

Of course I’m talking about my Wife.

My beautiful, brilliant, transcendent sine qua non.

She was a student of everything, the kind a teacher hopes for, who goes beyond every lesson and any constraint.

She was a professional ballet dancer, full member of The Royal Academy of Dance, founded a studio that democratized dance training and sent students to major companies.

She was a professional singer, a soprano with the William Hall Chorale whose recordings I’ve collected and cherish.

She was a political social activist supporting causes, joining demonstrations, giving speeches covered in the newspapers for which she also wrote performance reviews.

I’ve posted one on my blog.

She seemed to know everybody.

She was on the Community Advisory Board for KPFK Radio.

She was Secretary for the Martin Luther King Jr. Community Coalition.

She questioned everything and found answers.

She was active on Library Boards from Altadena to Cal State’s Kennedy Library.

She was a tutor to students learning English at Pasadena Community College.

She was a loving Mother.

She was a loving Wife.

She was a World Traveler and met the world with open arms.

She was a mover and shaker, important in the L.A. Festival, the Celebration of L.A. Street Dance, and the Festival of Masks.

She created the Sterling Consort, a renaissance performance costumed group of musicians, singers and dancers who performed all over Southern California and at the Renaissance Pleasure Faire.

She shepherded Folk Art to a widening audience.

She cooked the best meals of my life.

From time to time I’ll post her photos.

Sharing her gives me continuing reason to live.

Her life runs my pen out of ink.

She was also a poet.

Here, as an example, is one printed in Inscape ’91.

OLD PHOTOGRAPHS

They are always in threes.
Three women on the porch of a log cabin,
they are young, hair flowing down,
tiny waists and long skirts,
they are smiling and looking into the distance.
They are sitting on a plank in bathing costume,
their legs reflected in the water.
They are matriarchs with severe faces,
Slightly smiling, hair piled on top of heads.
Or they are middle aged
with heavy arms, and flowered dresses,
sitting on a mountain edge
with Half Dome in the distance.
Sometimes they are alone,
a woman in a buggy on a country road,
horse in profile,
or standing in a quiet pond, face hidden by a big hat,
skirts hitched up.
But they also splash, fully clothed, by a waterfall
in a stream,
or stand in hiking gear
in a vast mountain meadow.
And most of the time,
they are smiling.

–SHIRLEY STERLING