LOLA SUSAN LUCAS

Jan. 5, 1954-April 25, 2015

When Lola Lucas posted a personal in Riverfront Times, “Gomez, John Steed, Corwin of Amber seeks perchance Morticia, Emma Peel, Deirdre – raven-haired swf intent on sabbaticals to Britain,” Kevin Brown felt the message targeted him. The ensuing marriage, the “Lucas-Brown Partnership” was Olympian.

Lola had so many competences:

literature (especially sci-fi – she and Kevin attended Cons in costume!), Tarot magazine editor, the regular page in Enos Park Banner and the subsequent book, At Home in the Park: Loving a Neighborhood Back to Life; kaleidoscope collector, poetry wordsmith, a state job helping people find their employment niche, a penchant for spotting unusual houses. She and Kevin rescued abused poodles. There’s too much to tell. I consulted Kevin and Lola’s friends, how might we focus this memorial? We agreed Lola’s extraordinary talent and zest for bringing people together – to create community – was central, starting with the only personal ad she ever wrote!

For me the relationship began in my Sangamon State University Fantasy class where, as a new student, Lola quickly became a partner in building the desired camaraderie for enthusiastic learning. The day she died, after years of cancer’s roller coaster, she phoned me to come over, and there asked me to be her literary executor.

In between has been so much. She and Kevin yearly held four anticipated parties: a spring cheesecake bakeoff with inscribed plaques-prizes for different sorts (punster Mark Jenkins once won “most original” – his box revealed a “cheesecake” cutout of a leggy beauty); a Fourth of July extravaganza; the best Halloween parties ever; a Christmas gala. At all four events, friends overflowed. There were other gatherings. Mondays the Partnership ate with bicycle club members. Saturday morns was the Trout Lily for the “Drinking Coffee Liberally” political discussion. Lola participated in a monthly book club. And Tuesday nights, Kevin says, was her “phone night,” when she called those she hadn’t lately heard from.

Lola came regularly to a writing group, and many members sifted their work through her. Shawna Mayer writes, “She accepted herself, as well as everyone in her orbit, exactly as they were. She was my bridge to so many new friendships with kindred souls. I learned that once you find ‘your people’– the likeminded ones who share your interests and sensibilities – you hold fast to them. Of course she was a willing and insightful editor: she focused my efforts, so that I got down to the roots of what I wanted to say. My end product was then so much more clean and precise. She was a wise, warm ‘aunt,’ always available with kind words, advice and encouragement.”

From Nik Smith: “I met Kevin and Lola while working at R & M Cyclery. We discovered a mutual interest in recumbent bikes and science fiction. I was working on my first book and asked if they had time to read it. A few weeks later Lola brought me my manuscript with copious notes. How hard she’d worked for someone she barely knew! Her encouragement helped give me the confidence to finish that book, and start another. I miss Lola, but I can’t think about her without thinking about Kevin. I’m glad he’s here.”

Mark Flotow says, “Lola was courageous.

She lived life actively, positively, as much as her earthly vessel would allow. Constant in that she was a loyal and giving friend, including sharing voluminous writing ideas and tangential topics she knew would be of interest to me. Compassionate, for family and friends, her community, our whole world. Recently, she wrote this at the death of a local poet (I’ve substituted her name): ‘We are all tied to the tracks of life: / The train will not – cannot – swerve. / Let us hope for grace and dignity / And Lola’s brand of verve.’”

At Lola’s memorial, Yosh Golden’s poem:

“She wrote of Enos Park, its boundaries and its bounty, / its denizens, a few wearing the darkness of doubters. / But she would remind us of the ever-renewing dawn. / Lola’s words – prose, yet poetic, spare, yet lush. / Lola, you are missed – your thoughtfulness, smiling encouragement to all, / a gentle voice, a tender hand, a sweet good-bye at evening’s end. / So, now, will you write of Elysium Park? / Oh, that we could interpret your writing in clouds scudding by!” Personally, I cannot forget Lola’s generosity to myself and my daughter. How often we enjoyed the Partnership’s company at their backyard pool.

Many others have written. “She’d help me simplify, to stand back from my work to see what I was really saying.” “She was involved.” And over and over, how thoughtfully she listened, took time to care. I do need to add, Lola was not all gentleness! She had firmness, solidity, belly laughter, and strong anger at injustice – no nambypamby, she!

How much we miss her.

Jacqueline Jackson of Springfield, UIS professor emerita, writes a weekly poem for Illinois Times.