April 04, 2007

quicher bawlin you ol sad sack

uhh

Pip said: whats so sad anyway so he lived a shorter life than some others? you know how alive he was dont that make you happy? how long you think i'm gonna live, fool?

Posted by phoebeg at 09:42 PM

of course i remember that boy

i want to remember him, although if i remember him too much, it makes me cry.
we've got a lot of pictures, but there won't be any new pictures.


Posted by phoebeg at 08:07 PM

there is a writing award

Guy Robichaud Writing Award : Terrance Mckittrick : Mon, March 26, 2007, 9:41 AM

Guy Robichaud Writing Award : Terrance Mckittrick : Mon, March 26, 2007, 9:41 AM

I'm still accepting submissions for the Guy Robichaud Writing Award.
Thank you so much to those people who have already submitted pieces.
Students are invited to submit work to Terrance McKittrick (via his box in the office) in the following categories:
· Poetry
· Fiction – literary or graphic [as in pictures]
· Non-fiction
· Drama (screenplays or theatrical pieces)
Please make sure your name is on your piece as well as for what category you are submitting it.

Award recipients will sign their names to a wall mural painted in Guy’s honor and also receive cash and special commemorative berets and drumsticks. The deadline for submission is May 1, 2007 and a “blind judging” process will be used to select the winners.
Winners will be chosen by a group of students. If you would like to be in that group please let Terrance know soon.
If you want to volunteer to help create Guy’s mural, please contact Chloe at sticksandskins22@aol.com.

Posted by phoebeg at 07:50 PM

my nephew guy was going to teach this class

last september with a few fellow high school juniors.

but his illness made him too ill and he had to go and quietly die
i remember quite clearly in november the last time i hugged him you usually hug your nephews and nieces but this one was hugging me with his skinny strong arms, hugging me much better than i could hug him we said goodbye and see you soon see you soon see you soon

Goddesses, Chariots and Pyramids!

Facilitators: Nova students Guy Robichaud, Michael Faigenblum and Mike Kohn along with Nova instructor Joe Szwaja

Meeting Times: Tu, Th 10:15-11:45 plus at least 4 Friday field trips during the course of the semester.

Credit: .5 Any Type of World History Credit; Honors and extra credit also available

Prerequisites and Level: This is a mid level class open to students with an interest in exploring what our early human ancestors were like.

Description: Were early humans peaceful or violent, egalitarian or male dominant? How did people dress and eat, what were their every day lives like? Why did great civilizations rise and fall during the first chapters or our human story, what was the same and different about the ancient world as compared to our own, in which ancient society would you prefer to live? How do the patterns and discoveries set forth in the ancient world continue to influence us today? These are a few of the key issues that we will grapple with during this class concerning our early human ancestors.

Although the facilitators have particular issues we want to explore, we will agree on the themes and key questions democratically as a class. Tentatively, the class will be divided into four units 1) human beginnings, hunter gathers and the emergence of agriculture, 2) the rise of “civilization” city states and empires in different parts of the world 3) the interaction of different culture areas and the fall of civilizations and 4) sources and lasting legacies of the ancient world’s great culture areas.
This class will provide lots of room for students to explore interests and topics of interest, while building the skills of historical inquiry. It should prove to be an adventure of exploration and student staff collaboration, one that will challenge all who participate to look at things in a new way.

Posted by phoebeg at 07:44 PM

February 01, 2007

for Katie

a poem by Guy, for his girlfriend

Your Face is a Space Station.
Each freckle is a planet,
or a pancake
frying in zero gravity
with spacemen swimming in your nuclear batter
orbiting dietcoke moons and
Ice Pack Black(Holes)
[how could earth be beautiful enough for her
her face is a galaxy]

eyes are twin motherland suns
living welts of Brownness
Brown like what tree trunks dream,
Brown like where james Brown shoots up that Brown stuff,
baseline Brown
Brown where it all began and where it shall return to
in the end
big bang eyes

more

Scalp is a spring farm
a breeding pit of mobius miracles,
a retirement home for slinkies
where hair follicles mate and curl
until I lose my sanity staring at it

lf there is justice in this universe,
darling,
we would lock nebulas and explore the cosmos
until it's all just dust
anyways

- Guy Robichaud

Posted by phoebeg at 07:07 PM

January 31, 2007

forcing the memory

to find a reason or a promise.

or any trace, a smudge or a footprint.

Hello People, I am 14 years old, and attend NOVA middle school. I am a Seattle anarchist interested in youth rights, ending of war between states, and, of course, the destruction of the corrupt authoritarian state -Love
from this site: The Seattle Anarchy meet-up.

Or this one, from the Discordians meet-up page:
Hello one and all, I never knew there were so many of us. Well, it goes to show you: where leaps the stag, so leaps it's shadow. P.S. fnord!

Guy Robichaud Seattle, WA 98115 All consensual crimes ("victimless crimes") shouldn't be crimes, nor should our society accept any kind of morals into legislation

(Guy was probably barely 13 when he signed that one )

and also: Tom Lunt

and it's possible that these are two of the very last images taken
of Guy and my daughter.

why do I do this?

does it help me understand differently, or better?

Posted by phoebeg at 01:16 PM

Guy's memorial

a decoration from the cake, which was in the shape of a big pink hat. Guy liked to wear hats.

click below for eulogies by this young man's parents

Guy's father's words:

Early in my courtship of Guy’s mother, Elizabeth, while we were in journalism school in Missouri, even before our first date, I asked her what she wanted to do when she was finished with school. Her simple reply was “I want to be a mommy.” No pretense of wanting to be the managing editor for the New York Times or a correspondent in Beirut, just the plain truth.

And so it began as a negotiation of the terms of marriage, a prenuptial agreement, if you will, to have one child. At the time I guess I thought that I was the one compromising and giving in. Now I know that it was by far the best deal of my life. For as profoundly painful as Guy’s death is, it would have been far worse to have not shared Guy’s presence for these past 16 years, and for this I am eternally grateful to Liz.

I have experienced a love I would never have reached without Guy. It is a love that will stay with me always and make me feel more fully. Guy’s spirit flows through me. I feel him when I walk through the fields, when I touch my wife sweetly on her cheek, and especially when I remember the life of this beautiful manchild.

Guy lived life with a gentle intensity. He once declared he was the happiest boy at his school . Guy’s energy and love were not diminished by sharing. Now that he is dead his energy is free to reside in those he loved and who loved him. All of us are better because of his presence.

There is no greater love than a parent’s for his child. It is a gift to the parent more that the child. I love my wife dearly, but she it not of my flesh. She and I love each other in a complimentary way; we strengthen each others weaknesses. We are stronger as a couple than as individuals. But Guy expanded our capacity to love and experience. He has given us a fuller, richer foundation with which to continue our lives. He has made us so much better, and man should be judged by how much he has changed people for the better. Guy is in me and I will be more alive because of his presence. Each of you who he touched will live fuller more active lives.

In a way Liz and I feel very selfish having had Guy to ourselves for most of his life. In the past few years, Guy brought more people within his sphere, especially his beloved Katie. We saw that Guy was not ours to keep but to share.

His energy has rejoined the earth from whence it came, and we will all be more alive because of it. He brought so much energy and love and spread it so generously that instead of the son learning from the father, I have been lifted with Guy’s being and will always live with him in me. Guy will walk with me; he will build with me; he will be with me to the end of my days.

Guy’s life is a treasure that resides deeply in me.

Guy Robichaud is dead – Long live Guy.


Guy's mother's words:

WHAT I LEARNED FROM GUY

Guy was supposed to be a girl. Throughout my pregnancy, I planned tea parties and cookie baking and Jane Austen. But the nanosecond I laid eyes on him, I felt a shock of recognition and said, Of course: you’re the one I’ve been waiting for.

Guy’s infancy was not like the T.V. commercials for baby formula. I did not wear an exquisite peignoir in a sunlit nursery and lean serenely over a cooing baby. He had colic. He screamed and cried a lot. A lot. At the time, I mentioned this to an old guy I knew at work. He got a haunted, distant look in his eyes. “My son had colic,” he said. “It was worse than the foxholes of Korea.”

But now, looking back, I can see that it was good. For one thing, it helped us bond with him, fast and hard. There’s nothing like a baby’s crying to turn parents into instant experts on that baby as they study him minutely for clues about what’s wrong.

For another thing, the colic made his few peaceful moments dazzling and unforgettable. Like the time I was nursing Guy and enjoying the one reliable cease-fire the afternoon’s routine provided. He was about six weeks old. All of a sudden my reverie was interrupted when he unlatched from the breast too soon, when normally I would have expected at least five more minutes of peace. Oh god, what now, I thought. But instead of crying, he very intentionally turned his little baseball of a head to look straight into my eyes and transfixed me with a radiant smile that I will remember as long as I live.

And looking back, I can see that the colic was a lucky thing in another way. It taught us the hard lesson of being powerless to help the person you love most in the world but all the same knowing that you’re going to try like hell anyway. Which, as it turned out, was the ideal preparation for his cancer.

I learned so many other things from Guy during the 16 years I was lucky enough to be in his orbit. I learned that the universe is a friendly place, and that life is a glorious adventure. I learned that there is no fear, as he once wrote, if you accept the outcome as beautiful. I learned the importance of wearing a giant velvet sombrero to the opera. Most important, I learned that all of us – all of us – are innately precious, without having to do even one single thing to earn a place in this world. We’re precious just because we’re an accidental handful of cells.

I will miss my beautiful, sweet, gangly boy every day of my life. I will miss his expressive eyebrows and his radiant smile. I will miss his call-of-the-red-shafted-flicker laugh. I will miss his dear voice and the smell of his non-compulsively-washed hair. I will miss his ability to find the perfect Simpsons quotation for every occasion, his goofy drawings, and his willingness to laugh at my jokes. I will miss learning from him about how to live with joy, curiosity, spontaneity, honor, kindness, and endless generosity.

Thank you for being here today to help me miss him.

Posted by phoebeg at 01:16 PM

in seattle again

to attend a memorial service for my nephew tomorrow. Now, it seems like I should have something to say about this, something about feelings, something sad, heartbroken, but I feel detached and numb, afraid to think of Guy's face and his laugh, the way his cheeks pulled his mouth up into such a broad grin. my heart sort of sinks when I think about that, and the aural memory of his voice, his kind sarcasm, if there is such a thing-- there was such a thing, for sure, in Guy, but I've not seen it in others.

Here's Guy helping me out with my workshop at Bumbershoot a few years ago, with the other kids, and Anne Elizabeth Moore. Guy choose the Kimmie Gives The Finger t-shirt.

And hey, thanks for all the kind comments. You guys are the tops and I wish the best wishes for you.

Posted by phoebeg at 01:15 PM

My nephew died Wednesday afternoon

summer 2003

november 2006

Guy in the hospital, sleeping. drawn by his girlfriend Katie a few days before Christmas

From his Mom:

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 03, 2007 02:26 PM, CST
Guy died peacefully this afternoon shortly after 2:00 - no pain, no drama. He was breathing hard, and Jerry told him if he wanted to go, he could go. Then he simply stopped breathing.

Posted by phoebeg at 01:14 PM

waiting

the news from Guy's mother, my idol:

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2006 08:43 AM, CST
Guy had another good night, and with some brief semi-awake times. I thought an episode of The Simpsons might get through the fog in a way all our I-love-yous could not, so at 7:00 p.m., I turned on the T.V. and put the speaker gizmo next to Guy. Sure enough, he opened his eyes and looked one by one at the three faces focused breathlessly on him. When he closed his eyes again, I asked him whether he was having a good rest, and he gave a barely perceptible nod and then got back to the business of resting. We were all so happy. Around 4:00 this morning, something woke me, and I looked over to see Guy sitting up in bed with his eyes open. I went and sat next to him and put my cheek against his. He rubbed his head against mine very sweetly. I called Jerry to join us, and the three of us sat for a moment that way. I asked Guy if he wanted to go back to sleep, and just like that, he crawled back under the covers and comfortably drifted off.

Katie brought Guy his Christmas present yesterday, and what a spectacular gift it was: an enormous replica of the set of PeeWee's Playhouse from 1988, still in its original package. Along with the playhouse, she had procured 12 of the action figures designed to go with it - PeeWee, Globey, Magic Screen, Cowboy Curtis, Chairy, even the rare and coveted Miss Yvonne, the most beautiful woman in Puppetland!. It took Katie four months (and I shudder to think how much of her hard-earned QFC wages) to track down and secure all these treasures on eBay. Guy would have been over the moon. We can't bring ourselves to break the sacred bonds of the original packaging of the playhouse, but we've ranged the figures along the windowsill for all to admire.

Posted by phoebeg at 01:13 PM

my nephew in seattle

is sixteen, and less than a year ago he began to have very bad headaches and they gave him a test and decided to operate immediately and found that he had brain cancer of the most aggressive sort.

I love that boy. He is really smart. And charming and handsome. And wry, and sweet at the same time.
This is an essay he wrote.

Posted by phoebeg at 01:12 PM

i've been thinking about love

and what it might be

Posted by phoebeg at 01:07 PM