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Life Arts

Where, Oh Where Is Chris Trybis?

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Sending out a search for the lady formerly known as Chris Trybis (it rhymes).
The lady I knew was an artist. And for me, that's sayin' something.
I, too see beauty all around us. but Chris was a woman apart from most.

She would drag me along on one of her daily walks through a field and small forest in Kenosha, Wisconsin. Along the way she would find dozens of tiny, intricately beautiful things that I would have missed. Mostly, I remember the burrs and star-like seeds she would find.

Bringing them home to her house, she would install them in printer's racks, those wooden frames with lots of little cubbyholes. The holes were filled with wondrously and exquisitely beautiful natural objects which were emblems of the beauty in the world, if only one looks closely.

I last saw her on her way through Chicago. She needed a place to stay the night, I gave her the only bed in my tiny apartment. I forget where I slept, now. It wasn't important then. It was like a visit from Gandalf or some other common-looking, unassuming, yet incredible personage. One of my heroes, sorry, heroines.

She stopped to rest in Chicago like some migrating bird, on her way to Oregon, to marry a Carpenter, who was building solar homes, way back then, in the seventies. She named one daughter Amber, a name I'd forgotten, but a very beautiful name so appropriate to her mother's own nature.
Her name's surely different, now. I think she said the man was Italian. Something like "Pastorelli", she said using her deep, tough voice, and laughing. He must be quite a guy.

Anyway, I figure this website gets around more than I do anymore. These cats and dogs couldn't survive without me.
Saint-Exupery said, "...When you tame something, you're responsible forever..."
So if you see Chris, ask her to send word she's OK.

 

Avid reader, jazz musician, philosopher, chef, stone mason, carpenter, writer, painter, poet,humanist, teacher, holistic ethicist who believes consciousness and love pervade the universe, except among self-obsessed humans. I perceive the (more...)
 
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