I met Beetsie when we were students at Berkeley High School. In Teen World, a year or two difference in age can feel like two plateaus separated by the Grand Canyon. I was a year older so we didn’t share any classes, but we did find ourselves in a close-knit group of multi-age friends that became The Hiking Club. After graduating, I went my own way and eventually found myself in Alaska, leaving all my high school friends in faraway lands.

Forty years later, The Hiking Club had a reunion at Echo Lake in California, a deeply emotional experience for me to see, hear, and reconnect with all these long-ago friends. And then later (for me) Facebook. It was another sort of rec-connection. Irene and I, living as far across the United States as possible, shared photos and experiences of vastly different worlds. She enjoyed my life in the wild outskirts of Fairbanks, and I loved her rooftop herbs, flowers, and birds, her Marie Kondo cleaning, the sojourn in Montana, and Tabitha’s wedding. I’ve never been to New York but I fantasized that if I went, Irene would no doubt be the best guide ever.

Even in high school, I was struck by her openness, good cheer, and self-confidence. I’m sure those attributes shone like the rays of the sun throughout her life, gracing the lives and loves that surrounded her.
~ Lisa Shon Jodwalis

Although our friendship -- Beetsie's and mine -- was sprouted in the earth of the hiking club in 1968, it is the more recent years -- after connecting 40 years later -- that show me the richness of her soul. Big heart, big smile (big BIG smile !) , infinitely gracious, hospitable and kind. I can't put the recent memories in order: I visited her there in NYC; she visited me here in Santa Barbara as her brother lives close by, and now her parents; we visited Paula together at the Land of Calm Abiding in Big Sur... I know her as a quilt artist by seeing her work, but personally treasure a brilliant post card she created and sent. I don't think there was an occasion -- there it was, just out of the blue: this shining jewel of artwork in my mailbox.
One early (but not hiking club) memory is from when I stayed with her family in Waterbury after she had been whisked back home to her life and high school there, after the fine year of 1968 in Berkeley. I imposed badly on her parents' hospitality and must have stayed a few weeks, because I was included in a family trip for Thanksgiving at a grandmother's home. Beetsie/Irene and I were poor guests there too and had to give formal apologies to the grandmother -- I don't even remember how we had transgressed. We also, but I assume the parents didn't know, went out at night to make long distance phone calls to friends back in California, from a phone booth using stolen phone credit card numbers... totally illegal but somehow we felt entitled to talk to our friends 3000 miles away at someone else's expense. We were early hackers. Well: we were 16 !
Sorry.. that was a digression. But most importantly on that trip, at one time we went to Mr. Marcuse's law office (parents never had first names) and there chatted with a younger lawyer (Charlie?) and told him of our dream to drop out of mundane life and head out on a trip -- just anywhere/nowhere -- in a "sky blue land rover". We, and Charlie, knew the Sky Blue Land Rover wasn't a real vehicle, but an image for an open ended and unplanned future.
Irene: blessings on your continued tour in the Sky Blue Land Rover !
Much much love !
Mary

Nōchtli, November
IM Irene

The roof beam sags at the High Noon Saloon
reminds me of the ranch in Ribera, Jody,
Rasheed, Esteban, and Irene, beans on the vine,
tomatoes ripening, we enter the old room,
original to the adobe, built in 1776, Esteban
tells me, forty years later, after four days
in Albuquerque suddenly I’ve arrived, viewing
roughed-out sheds and shacks, walls ramble,
topped with kiln-fired bricks, reverie wanders,
aroma and taste of green chile, Irene
was right, burritos from food trucks
on East Fourteenth just don’t compare.

Local flavor rafting over my tongue, I
head off to the Rio Grande, the bosque,
I walk to Old Town, on to the Rio Grande
tumbleweeds blown against an iron door,
chile ristras strung and hung from balconies
for good luck, or simply, the red of them, warmth
of the sun, now, in the square opposite
the Church of San Felipe, a quinceañera,
young women in fuchsia-colored dresses, grupo
of gaucho musicians serenades the women, turns
to guests, then to us. At the threshold of the old adobe,
dusk, saguaros and blue sky fade, distance turns
to night, a lightning strike illumines evening,
rain, and rose-red nōchtli on prickly pear.

(March 2021)
*** *** *** ***

Irene was a dear friend to me for more than 50 years. We met in Berkeley at Berkeley High in 1968.

I will remember her humor, her inquisitive nature, her generosity, her incisive wit, and her love. We will miss her.

-Larry Ruth

I am still trying to fully accept and understand that Irene is no longer of this world. There is so much to convey and share from our long friendship and sisterhood. Those words will come. In the meantime, here are a few images. Christmas, hanging with Tabitha, in the red dress we both owned, Irene’s artwork and Tabitha with baby Irene

Paula Chichester
Irene loved color. she was a great artist
Irene loved words. she was a great writer
Irene loved to read. she loved Outlander stories
She could put words and colours to together to make happy feasts for the eyes and for the mind.
I'm so lucky to have one of her quilts. I cherish it. so special, so beautiful.
super creative
lover of people and life
although challenges could be hard sometimes
fun to be with
caring
a good listener
a deep thinker
good conversations!
smiles and laughter
tender-hearted and brave
I sure she helped many people with her caring instincts and wit.
I miss her --- although I know she is on her way to another great gig and will light the life wherever she goes with that curious love of hers.

Sometimes in the mélange of social media it is hard to drill down to the heart of what counts, really counts. The heart speaking to a heart that has left us—a great and caring heart that Irene held out for us. Remaining devoted to her friends, loves, and family, now and those to be. Forgiving trespass and hoping others would forgive her trespass into the mysterious corners or the heart (as we all are prone). Irene gave me a hardbound copy of Four Quartets long ago knowing in her heart that it held both poetry and wisdom that would ring true regardless of the directions our lives might take. And it did for me; sitting on a beach in Tasmania with the sense of a still point in a turning world that quiets the heart for a moment; the flickering of bushtits in the backyard bramble morning sunlight; children, and the persistent reminder that time past and time future point to the present. Irene gave me that gift when we were young and far from wisdom, but the book still sits on the shelf next to me as I write. With it and many other gifts she has given, she will always be part of me and so many others past, present, and beyond.
Offered in love and respect for Irene.
Esteban

Bittersweet, unbelievable and magical anatomy scan for baby Theo a few hours after my mother Irene Marcuse Silver passed away.

I watched her heart beat and breath slow and disappear and then got to see all the chambers of Theo’s forming heart beating and diaphragm and lungs preparing to take in breath. Surreal.

My mom is gone in many ways but her spirit and heart is with us, with Theo. He would not stay still for his pictures as he was constantly spinning, jumping and dancing just like he was when we danced mom off this mortal coil.

Thanks to everyone for all the love the last few days.

Irene was a surrogate aunt to me. She was living in New Mexico when I was born and wrote me a poem when I was a day old. When life took me to NYC, she made my landing in the frantic city as blissfully smooth and easy as a country girl could possibly hope for. I cherish memories of Sunday dinners and rooftop soirées, always made brighter by her laughter and wit. She gave the absolute best hugs. ❤️ I’m so so so sad she didn’t get to meet Theo; her transition into the next realm seems much too soon. My thoughts are with you, Tabitha.