We hope you had a peaceful time in PR.
Here is a picture of our tribute to Lizzy on our
Christmas Tree. See you soon.
Love, Mary, Steve, Cook and Nick
from Nicholas Alciati
I carried a blue plastic dinosaur in my pocket today.
That dinosaur traveled with me to Poughkeepsie to student teach.
That dinosaur ate my awful fast food lunch with me.
That dinosaur was in my pocket when I did a presentation on Robert Rauschenberg today.
That dinosaur was with me when I had the usual hummus and pretzel dinner.
That dinosaur was with me when I sat in my room listening to the Garden State soundtrack remembering the time we sang every song on the railroad tracks.
That dinosaur has gotten me through a lot in the past three years.
That dinosaur was in your dorm room and was given to me by my mom when she broke the news to me three years ago, tomorrow.
That dinosaur was with me at your wake and funeral.
That dinosaur was with me when I decided on which college to go to.
That dinosaur was with me whenever I was having a bad day.
That dinosaur was with me when got admitted into BFA photography program.
That dinosaur was there when I made a book, just for you.
That dinosaur sits next to my bed every night.
That dinosaur is one of the only physical things I have to remember you by.
That dinosaur can never make up for your absence, but the memories I have make things better.
I am so lucky to have known you and without you I may be going to school to just be a number in our society.
I may have denied my artistic passion, but you pushed me to embrace it, rather than hide it.
You influenced me in ways that I think you could never understand.
Although you are gone, you have given me more than most people have in this world.
Gone is such a permanent word, you're not really gone, you're here in other ways and that helps me get through my days as a busy photography student.
I love you Elizabeth, and with your blue dinosaur and the memories I have, I can get through anything.
That dinosaur traveled with me to Poughkeepsie to student teach.
That dinosaur ate my awful fast food lunch with me.
That dinosaur was in my pocket when I did a presentation on Robert Rauschenberg today.
That dinosaur was with me when I had the usual hummus and pretzel dinner.
That dinosaur was with me when I sat in my room listening to the Garden State soundtrack remembering the time we sang every song on the railroad tracks.
That dinosaur has gotten me through a lot in the past three years.
That dinosaur was in your dorm room and was given to me by my mom when she broke the news to me three years ago, tomorrow.
That dinosaur was with me at your wake and funeral.
That dinosaur was with me when I decided on which college to go to.
That dinosaur was with me whenever I was having a bad day.
That dinosaur was with me when got admitted into BFA photography program.
That dinosaur was there when I made a book, just for you.
That dinosaur sits next to my bed every night.
That dinosaur is one of the only physical things I have to remember you by.
That dinosaur can never make up for your absence, but the memories I have make things better.
I am so lucky to have known you and without you I may be going to school to just be a number in our society.
I may have denied my artistic passion, but you pushed me to embrace it, rather than hide it.
You influenced me in ways that I think you could never understand.
Although you are gone, you have given me more than most people have in this world.
Gone is such a permanent word, you're not really gone, you're here in other ways and that helps me get through my days as a busy photography student.
I love you Elizabeth, and with your blue dinosaur and the memories I have, I can get through anything.
Anniversary by Susan Markert
It comes
like fog
settling in and over
the day.
A date, a time, a moment
that changed everything.
They did not know
in the produce department at the grocery store
where a mother caught an avalanche of orange peppers
set off by her curious toddler
They did not know
at the stop light
where a car full of teens
smoking
waited for the light to change
Or on the boulevard
where a couple argued in a car
over something insignificant
and both felt unappreciated.
The mailman still came
the catalogs glossy
and promising a better life
My mothers red-rimmed eyes
The sound of a wail
as my purse fell
to the floor
Where did it come from?
It was me
I heard
As if watching
from another room
far from the truth telling
The sky looked different after knowing
as my heart shattered
into millions of little pieces
and fell to the ground
shiny and scattered
And I felt as if
I would never stop crying
Ever.
Does she remember my face
my eyes
before the news?
Did they change
like the sky?
The earth shifted that day
Only some felt it
Still feel it
When the fog moves in.
***************************************
Susan is my cousin, and lost her father, my uncle Edward Markert, suddenly one morning when he did not wake up. He was 52, Susan 17.
Howling
Every day after his dinner
the cat lets out a yowl that cannot be explained
Is he still hungry
Was the meal too wonderful
Who knows what he is missing or needing
to explain further
When she first died he would go to the bed
in search of her, and I would be there
and he would bury his head in my hand
and be comforted.
But sometimes
a yowl
is what
is needed
the cat lets out a yowl that cannot be explained
Is he still hungry
Was the meal too wonderful
Who knows what he is missing or needing
to explain further
When she first died he would go to the bed
in search of her, and I would be there
and he would bury his head in my hand
and be comforted.
But sometimes
a yowl
is what
is needed
from Liza Bennett
Dear Patty:
Just wanted you to know that we're thinking about you and Richard today. This, always one of my favorite Roethke poems, seems to perfectly distill my own feelings.
ELEGY FOR JANE (My student, thrown by a horse) I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils; And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile; And how, once started into talk, the light syllables leaped for her. And she balanced in the delight of her thought, A wren, happy, tail into the wind, Her song trembling the twigs and small branches. The shade sang with her; The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing, And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose. Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth, Even a father could not find her: Scraping her cheek against straw, Stirring the clearest water. My sparrow, you are not here, Waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow. The sides of wet stones cannot console me, Nor the moss, wound with the last light. If only I could nudge you from this sleep, My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon. Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love: I, with no rights in this matter, Neither father nor lover. —Theodore Roethke |
Books at Packer
There will be a fund to purchase photography books at Packer Collegiate in Elizabeth's name. Eric Baylin, her photography teacher, who was so influential in getting her to think of what it takes to make a good photograph, will help with selection.
Elizabeth loved Pippi Longstocking
Astrid Lindgren went on to write more than 80 books, and died at age 94.
Nine Months
Obviously I liked being pregnant more
this state is torture
You are just gone
vanished
I know what happened to your body
but I don’t know about your soul
I want to speak to you so much
and hear your voice
I read your notebook today
so fresh alive
you said my mom is so sad
If people are capable of change
I am changing every day
but one thing is constant
I thought I was bringing you in to the world to grow old
I thought I would get to see you middle aged
none of that
none
of
that
When you were a baby Liza and I rocked you around the house
bouncing you on my hip
singing I’m an old cow hand
from the rio grande
any old song that would cheer you
calm you down to
slumber
I sang you lullabies
Do you remember the one
All the pretty little horses
Oh darling
I am lost
Making Apple Pie
She liked to eat the apple mixture raw before it's put into the dough. She would have eaten half the pie filling cause she didn't like the pie. She adored the fruit inside the pie especially all of those juices blended together. Yesterday there were many apples left without her to eat these juicy bits before their being baked in the pie. It is a high pie as a result.
Description of Elizabeth January 19, 2000
The Two Elizabeths
1. Description of Elizabeth Aakre
By Elizabeth Kester, 2000
"Hi!" she says with a jump as I enter the classroom.
"Hi." I say, still tired from waking up.
"Guess what."
"What?" I ask.
"I got a new shirt!" she grins.
I look at her. Her brown eyes are either shining brightly, lighting up the room, or after long Frankenstein rehearsals, tired. She has a big smile on her face. Little freckles lay on her dimples. A regular Pollyanna.
She zooms around the room, talking to many people, informing them of news. She engages in many conversations, and always contributes. When chatting, most students look up at her. She is a tall girl, and shorter than only a few people.
Playing soccer or basketball, there is rarely a time when we are not together. If you kick the ball, or score a basket, she cheers you on and gives you a high five.
Playing on the soft green grass at the East River, she kicks the soccer ball with all her might.
"Good job," I say to her as we set our defensive move. I kick it away from a member of the opposing team with a little swish.
"Go Elizabeth!" she yells enthusiastically.
"Thank you," I say which is my usual response.
Her straight brown hair swishes from under her hat as she gives another kick. I cheer for her and the game is over.
She can be shy. She sits quietly at her desk. If she is embarrassed she silently runs over to her friends and hides her face. When embarrassed, we both mutter something under our breath as if to say we are terrible.
If she gets upset, she deals with it. Eventually she will get over the problem and forget about it. It becomes hazy in her mind.
She makes many different voices. From talking in a baby lisp conversation, to making a little witch cackle, she almost always has an interesting voice.
2. Description of Elizabeth Kester
By Elizabeth Aakre 2000
As I walk into the room with her every one stares. She is so smart and talented and smart that she is very well known. In fact, Elizabeth is one of the smartest people in our grade! Since every one knows this, she is often bothered for homework help.
I look at her, her light blue eyes are always twinkling with excitement. She has a timid smile almost always, unless it's after volleyball practice, which is when our wrists and arms start to ache!
She sets her stuff down on my desk and grins at me. This is an annoying habit that both of us have picked up since last year. Since we sat together last year too, we took advantage of the opportunity and sumped stuff on each others desk at every possible time.
While stealing Zack's hat or playing volleyball, Elizabeth is always one of the best players! Along with being a good team player, she is a great supporter! Whether you just managed to knock his hat off or managed to steal it and run away with it, she is always supporting.
Elizabeth is one of the best friends I have . Whether we need to have a good cry over Pacey and Joey, or to have a good laugh over Ian's funny movements, she's always there for you. Especially if you have a secret. I don't think that she has ever related one of my secrets to the rest of our friends. I don't know what I'd do without you.
1. Description of Elizabeth Aakre
By Elizabeth Kester, 2000
"Hi!" she says with a jump as I enter the classroom.
"Hi." I say, still tired from waking up.
"Guess what."
"What?" I ask.
"I got a new shirt!" she grins.
I look at her. Her brown eyes are either shining brightly, lighting up the room, or after long Frankenstein rehearsals, tired. She has a big smile on her face. Little freckles lay on her dimples. A regular Pollyanna.
She zooms around the room, talking to many people, informing them of news. She engages in many conversations, and always contributes. When chatting, most students look up at her. She is a tall girl, and shorter than only a few people.
Playing soccer or basketball, there is rarely a time when we are not together. If you kick the ball, or score a basket, she cheers you on and gives you a high five.
Playing on the soft green grass at the East River, she kicks the soccer ball with all her might.
"Good job," I say to her as we set our defensive move. I kick it away from a member of the opposing team with a little swish.
"Go Elizabeth!" she yells enthusiastically.
"Thank you," I say which is my usual response.
Her straight brown hair swishes from under her hat as she gives another kick. I cheer for her and the game is over.
She can be shy. She sits quietly at her desk. If she is embarrassed she silently runs over to her friends and hides her face. When embarrassed, we both mutter something under our breath as if to say we are terrible.
If she gets upset, she deals with it. Eventually she will get over the problem and forget about it. It becomes hazy in her mind.
She makes many different voices. From talking in a baby lisp conversation, to making a little witch cackle, she almost always has an interesting voice.
2. Description of Elizabeth Kester
By Elizabeth Aakre 2000
As I walk into the room with her every one stares. She is so smart and talented and smart that she is very well known. In fact, Elizabeth is one of the smartest people in our grade! Since every one knows this, she is often bothered for homework help.
I look at her, her light blue eyes are always twinkling with excitement. She has a timid smile almost always, unless it's after volleyball practice, which is when our wrists and arms start to ache!
She sets her stuff down on my desk and grins at me. This is an annoying habit that both of us have picked up since last year. Since we sat together last year too, we took advantage of the opportunity and sumped stuff on each others desk at every possible time.
While stealing Zack's hat or playing volleyball, Elizabeth is always one of the best players! Along with being a good team player, she is a great supporter! Whether you just managed to knock his hat off or managed to steal it and run away with it, she is always supporting.
Elizabeth is one of the best friends I have . Whether we need to have a good cry over Pacey and Joey, or to have a good laugh over Ian's funny movements, she's always there for you. Especially if you have a secret. I don't think that she has ever related one of my secrets to the rest of our friends. I don't know what I'd do without you.
When it's a birthday
or a holiday, or the beginning of school, or the end of school, or you see a barrette, or a button, that belonged to her, you wonder what life would have been like if she were still alive.
the tree is stunted
in front of the fire station where it lived inside the scaffolding
for more than three years when they renovated the building next door
and crammed its young limbs into holes not big enough for them to grow
and the seasons came and went but the little tree, sister to the one
next door that evaded the truss of the scaffolding and is now tall
and thriving, began to sicken, and yellow
bitten into by its enemy, the scaffolding that
would not let it grow.
When I look at the tree, I think of the time when life included her,
and the limb was young and healthy.
This is too direct a comparison, but I pass the stunted tree
every day and think it is my sister, and wonder how much longer
before they chop it down for good.
Street with stunted tree on left, other tree on right. The building while restoration took place was surrounded by scaffolding.
What it looks like What it should look like
for more than three years when they renovated the building next door
and crammed its young limbs into holes not big enough for them to grow
and the seasons came and went but the little tree, sister to the one
next door that evaded the truss of the scaffolding and is now tall
and thriving, began to sicken, and yellow
bitten into by its enemy, the scaffolding that
would not let it grow.
When I look at the tree, I think of the time when life included her,
and the limb was young and healthy.
This is too direct a comparison, but I pass the stunted tree
every day and think it is my sister, and wonder how much longer
before they chop it down for good.
Street with stunted tree on left, other tree on right. The building while restoration took place was surrounded by scaffolding.
What it looks like What it should look like
Shakespeare
This arrived in my mail box today, courtesy of Writers Almanac.
In his tragedy The Life and Death of King John, Constance gives this speech:
Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?
Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.--
I will not keep this form upon my head,
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure!
In his tragedy The Life and Death of King John, Constance gives this speech:
Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?
Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.--
I will not keep this form upon my head,
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure!
Elizabeth's Channel
When she
finally
discovered
the channel that
her daughter used
to swim
upstream
she felt as if she had joined her
and found a way of countering
death
throwing herself
into her daughter’s skin
or was it
her daughter in her skin
the two
of them
working
furiously
to beat back
the waters that must go down.
Sitting on the rocks at the falls
water gushing over her body—
it is good to be alive.
Riverfest 2009
Went to Riverfest today, and remembered when Elizabeth and Ryanne and Cassie all performed the puppet show in the Kiddy Corner near the post office. The children wore hand puppets of animals and acted out a play about the environment. Her picture was in the paper. There were children over there today.
Some photographs she loved
In the book, Photography: Venice '79 in our living room I found an index card with pages listed in green ink, some of them double underlined (14, 17, 21, 53, 62, 64, 70, 96, etc.) (bold where underline should be since google doesn't allow underline font).
Here are three of the pictures that were double underlined. Elizabeth must have really loved these. The girl reminds me of her.
Eugene Atget, a door in the rue Eau de Robec, Rouen
She had an eye for great pictures. She trained herself to see by constantly amassing pictures of all kinds.
Lewis Hine, group of Newsies. Brooklyn 1908
Lewis Hine: Powerhouse mechanic, c. 1920
Happy Birthday, Elizabeth G.
Here are three of the pictures that were double underlined. Elizabeth must have really loved these. The girl reminds me of her.
Eugene Atget, a door in the rue Eau de Robec, Rouen
She had an eye for great pictures. She trained herself to see by constantly amassing pictures of all kinds.
Lewis Hine, group of Newsies. Brooklyn 1908
Lewis Hine: Powerhouse mechanic, c. 1920
Happy Birthday, Elizabeth G.
Beauty
The bearded iris in bloom --
the leaves newly opened --
she cannot see these --
and her beauty we cannot see --
This is how we are all diminished
and almost crushed
Pictures
She left me notes that said:
I O U 20 hugs
Love,
Elizabeth
or pictures made with ink and paper
for example
This is one of my favorite pictures of Lizzy and me the year Richard had a bumper crop in cucumbers. It is in a frame that she decorated with sea shells she had collected on her travels.
I O U 20 hugs
Love,
Elizabeth
or pictures made with ink and paper
for example
This is one of my favorite pictures of Lizzy and me the year Richard had a bumper crop in cucumbers. It is in a frame that she decorated with sea shells she had collected on her travels.
What Branches Grow
Glenna Clifton is now a student at Columbia, but in 2006 she was enrolled at Smith College and lived in Comstock House with Elizabeth at the time she died. She gave me permission to post this recording of the dance she choreographed in Elizabeth's and others' memory which was performed this past fall. Thank you, Glenna, for creating this lovely and moving dance.
What Branches Grow from Patricia Markert on Vimeo.
Choreography: Glenna Clifton
Music: Metamorphosis by Philip Glass and Fix You by Coldplay
Columbia Ballet Collaborative
Laura Goodall, Dasha Jensen, Amber Matz, Marisa McKenna, Marygrace Patterson, Sara Paul, Mary Shorey, Eleanor Zeitlin.
In honor of Elizabeth Aakre (1988-2006), Aaron Anton (1926-2007), Max Brindle (1988-2008), and Will Christianson (1990-2008).
Performed at City Center by the Columbia Balet Collaborative Thursday, November 20th & Friday, November 21st 2008.
Columbia Ballet Collaborative
Laura Goodall, Dasha Jensen, Amber Matz, Marisa McKenna, Marygrace Patterson, Sara Paul, Mary Shorey, Eleanor Zeitlin.
In honor of Elizabeth Aakre (1988-2006), Aaron Anton (1926-2007), Max Brindle (1988-2008), and Will Christianson (1990-2008).
Performed at City Center by the Columbia Balet Collaborative Thursday, November 20th & Friday, November 21st 2008.
Sometimes when all three of them went to the river
and Richard fished, and Patty and Elizabeth swam
they were happy together, letting each other alone
yet staying together in an ideal place, with the rapids
not too fast, and the fish big enough to keep,
and when they grew hot they could cool off in the water.
and Richard fished, and Patty and Elizabeth swam
they were happy together, letting each other alone
yet staying together in an ideal place, with the rapids
not too fast, and the fish big enough to keep,
and when they grew hot they could cool off in the water.
I was dusting her room
and found the bit of green construction paper we had cut into strips then stapled into links to make a chain we used to rip piece by piece one link per day anticipating Christmas.
She loved making the chain with me. I hung it on the door in late November, just after Thanksgiving vacation when she was home on break. We had made origami at the dining room table too. I found the little whales in her backpack which still hangs from her door.
Christmas is over. But I let it in a little this year, when I sang my heart out at the nursing home with the ninth graders. It can't be the same as making origami with Elizabeth but I do love her and I love the young people in my life, who can never replace her but who keep growing up without her.
She loved making the chain with me. I hung it on the door in late November, just after Thanksgiving vacation when she was home on break. We had made origami at the dining room table too. I found the little whales in her backpack which still hangs from her door.
Christmas is over. But I let it in a little this year, when I sang my heart out at the nursing home with the ninth graders. It can't be the same as making origami with Elizabeth but I do love her and I love the young people in my life, who can never replace her but who keep growing up without her.
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