Oh, Ingrid, the things you've made me do... every accordian player I see on the street gets my pocket change. But today, today things rose to a new level.
I stopped by the grocery store, and outside was a young-ish accordian player--though these days I swear everyone looks younger and younger. You would have loved him, Ingrid. He was playing the Summer section of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, and God help me he was fantastic. I dropped in a couple of euros, listened until he switched to Autumn, and went to shop.
When I left the store, I dropped in substantially more money. It's cold out and he was playing for no one, beaming with joy. He was just so good, and I felt you so clearly at that moment, Ingrid. He switched to Bach then, and I knew you would have loved it. I stayed through some Beethoven, then thanked him and turned to leave.
And he stopped me, and in a thick Russian accent thanked me profusely and handed me his homemade CD. Maxim Sadovnikov smiled at me, so happy to have someone stop to listen, and I could hear you, Ingrid, laughing at me. With love.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
A Place to Rest
Ingrid's hand-carved box.
Ingrid's flowers.
Ingrid's view.
Ingrid's ashes were interred on Friday, Nov. 7, 2008, in Dry Creek Cemetery in the foothills above the Boise Basin, as she had wished. Her beautiful hand-carved box was wrapped in her favorite purple silk scarf.
It's a lovely place, very old and well landscaped with a terrific view. A contemplative place, where the seasons are very apparent.
Good rest, Ingrid Wilhite. You earned it every day of your beautiful, too-short life. We all miss you more than we can say or dream.
(Photos courtesy of Denise Dupree.)
Friday, November 7, 2008
For Ingrid's Memorial Service, 11/7/2008
Since Ingrid died, I have been struggling to make sense of her loss. I’ve cried, I’ve prayed, I’ve ranted, I’ve reached out, and I’ve withdrawn. And now, it’s time to accept.
There is no way to fully describe what Ingrid Wilhite meant to me. I know that I would not be who I am today, for good and for ill, if I hadn’t known her. And I know that she was among the very most meaningful and important people in my life. And lastly, I know that what she sparked in me, all those many years ago, burns as brightly now as it did when we met. That love, that connection, that lasting and redeeming friendship—these will be with me always, even though she is not.
I feel her effect on me every time I laugh at something inappropriate and devastatingly funny, every time I make the difficult decision to avoid something that isn’t good for me, every time I try to be more cool that I really am, and every time I joyfully accept love.
I love you, Ingrid Joy Wilhite, and I always will. I hope that I grow up to be half the human being you were.
-Caren Crockett
(With gratitude to Sauni Symonds and Lori Jensen.)
There is no way to fully describe what Ingrid Wilhite meant to me. I know that I would not be who I am today, for good and for ill, if I hadn’t known her. And I know that she was among the very most meaningful and important people in my life. And lastly, I know that what she sparked in me, all those many years ago, burns as brightly now as it did when we met. That love, that connection, that lasting and redeeming friendship—these will be with me always, even though she is not.
I feel her effect on me every time I laugh at something inappropriate and devastatingly funny, every time I make the difficult decision to avoid something that isn’t good for me, every time I try to be more cool that I really am, and every time I joyfully accept love.
I love you, Ingrid Joy Wilhite, and I always will. I hope that I grow up to be half the human being you were.
-Caren Crockett
(With gratitude to Sauni Symonds and Lori Jensen.)
Monday, June 30, 2008
The Photos Not Taken
Dearest Ingrid:
Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. Not a day goes by that I don't think to call you about something.
I was shooting the dyke march Saturday and I remembered all the photos of you with your pals at those marches. I kept looking for your face in the crowd. I kept thinking of how we might cut the footage. I kept thinking...Ingrid...where did you get to my pal?
And today I saw a bumper sticker that said: "Accordions are illegal. It's the law." And I laughed thinking I could share that with you.
I miss you, Ingrid.
Yer pal, Margo
Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. Not a day goes by that I don't think to call you about something.
I was shooting the dyke march Saturday and I remembered all the photos of you with your pals at those marches. I kept looking for your face in the crowd. I kept thinking of how we might cut the footage. I kept thinking...Ingrid...where did you get to my pal?
And today I saw a bumper sticker that said: "Accordions are illegal. It's the law." And I laughed thinking I could share that with you.
I miss you, Ingrid.
Yer pal, Margo
Monday, May 5, 2008
Team Ingrid Crosses the Finish Line
Team Ingrid, looking all stylish and walk-ish, at the Brain Tumor Foundation Walk-a-thon.
And they've got the feet to prove it.Sunday, May 4, 2008
Happy Birthday, Ingrid
Today would have been Ingrid's 49th birthday. I'm sure that she would have gorged on cake, probably taken a bike ride, partied with her friends in the Bay Area, and laughed with me when I told her (as I did every year) that no matter what she would always be older than I.
I wish that were still true.
Happy birthday, Ingrid. I miss you.
I wish that were still true.
Happy birthday, Ingrid. I miss you.
Monday, April 21, 2008
National Brain Tumor Foundation Walk
A group of Ingrid's friends are doing the National Brain Tumor Foundation Walk in the Bay Area on Saturday, May 3 (the day before what would have been Ingrid's 49th birthday). You can support them by making a donation to one or more of the Wilhite Walkers.
If you can't make a donation, then send out a good thought for those who are walking, and remember Ingrid on her birthday the next day. Hum a tune she used to play on the accordian, tell a corny joke, revel in something quirky and obscure, bust out the short-shorts, eat cake--do some small thing she would have done. Because she would be doing it if she were here. And doing that small thing might make it feel a little bit more like she is still here.
If you can't make a donation, then send out a good thought for those who are walking, and remember Ingrid on her birthday the next day. Hum a tune she used to play on the accordian, tell a corny joke, revel in something quirky and obscure, bust out the short-shorts, eat cake--do some small thing she would have done. Because she would be doing it if she were here. And doing that small thing might make it feel a little bit more like she is still here.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Friends at SF Memorial Service
Tesia, Marianne, Nicole, Lisa, Pam, Sally, Julia, and Amy B.
Lori, Marianne, Laura, and Julia.
Laura, Nicole, Valerie, Denise, Mitra, and Esther.
Christina and Julie.
(Photos courtesy of Amy Rubin).
Friday, February 29, 2008
Rocking the Short Shorts
At Stonehenge. In flip-flops. Because there's nothing at all to stub your toe on at Stonehenge...Thursday, February 21, 2008
Too Cool to Be Without Shades
With Kar and Margo at the LA Fest, modeling the latest in filmmaker eyewear.(Courtesy of Esther Orioli)
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Bay Area Memorial Service
The Bay Area Memorial for Ingrid will take place Saturday, Feb. 23, from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. at the LGBT Community Center, 1800 Market Street at Octavia Street, San Francisco.
It’s an “aw shucks” love fest for the gal who loved polkas, women, cats, films, and setting Cheetos on fire. Come as you are!
It’s an “aw shucks” love fest for the gal who loved polkas, women, cats, films, and setting Cheetos on fire. Come as you are!
- Share your favorite Ingrid memory or story
- Sing a song, play a tune, dress a part
- Bring your pictures for a photo wall
- Contribute ideas, fabric, or pieces for a quilt in Ingrid’s honor
Rutgers: The Good Old Days
Ingrid and I met in September 1979, our sophomore year at Rutgers College. We lived down the hall from one another. She had come to New Jersey on a national student exchange program. She was eager to escape Boise to get to New York, and Rutgers was a way to do it. At the time she was experimenting with being out of the closet, and was the first person whom I knew who was open about being gay. I was a pretty awkward straight guy, obsessed with women, but not doing a whole lot about it. Our shared obsession though was just one of the things we had in common. We viewed ourselves as cosmopolitans. I thought that I belonged in New York and not Jersey; Ingrid was convinced that it was her destiny to be in a big city rather than Boise.
Soon after she got to Rutgers, we took the train into New York. We did lots of touristy things --the Statue of Liberty, the top of the World Trade Center (She reminded me of the World Trade Center trip when we talked on the phone after 9/11), and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I still repeat something she said at the Met. We were walking through this room filled with a couple hundred Greek Vases. There were so many of them, that it became boring to study each one. She was outraged that there were so many. She said, "If there was just one of these in Boise, humanities teachers from all over the state would take their students to see it."
Ingrid was kind, trusting, and trustworthy. She had friends of all genders and orientations and could talk to anyone. For all of her fascination with big city life, Ingrid had grown up on a farm and was deeply suspicious of people who put on airs. She often spoke of how people she met might appear to her family back in Boise. I'll always remember how she could flip back and forth between lesbian feminist and Boise farm girl.
In our senior year we shared an apartment. I did my school work, applied to graduate schools (in psychology), and almost nothing else, but Ingrid was always doing an art project or working on a film. I remember her working for days at a time on her films. Years later when I tracked her down through the internet, I saw that the films she made in college were now for sale on a videotape. Every now and then we’d get involved in some big cooking project together. Once, Ingrid found a recipe for homemade Kalua and insisted that we make it. In those pre-Starbucks days, it involved large amounts of vodka and instant coffee (Yuck!). We shared a stereo. I remember none of the records I owned at the time, but Ingrid introduced me to Patsy Cline and I still sing along when I hear her songs.
After college, Ingrid and I didn’t do a good job of staying in touch. I always figured though that at some point I’d make it out to California with my wife and daughters. Ingrid always struck me as someone who did what she set out to do and I’m sad that my daughters never got the chance to meet her, see the example she set, and laugh with her.
Jonathan Steinberg
Cincinnati, Ohio
February 2008
Soon after she got to Rutgers, we took the train into New York. We did lots of touristy things --the Statue of Liberty, the top of the World Trade Center (She reminded me of the World Trade Center trip when we talked on the phone after 9/11), and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I still repeat something she said at the Met. We were walking through this room filled with a couple hundred Greek Vases. There were so many of them, that it became boring to study each one. She was outraged that there were so many. She said, "If there was just one of these in Boise, humanities teachers from all over the state would take their students to see it."
Ingrid was kind, trusting, and trustworthy. She had friends of all genders and orientations and could talk to anyone. For all of her fascination with big city life, Ingrid had grown up on a farm and was deeply suspicious of people who put on airs. She often spoke of how people she met might appear to her family back in Boise. I'll always remember how she could flip back and forth between lesbian feminist and Boise farm girl.
In our senior year we shared an apartment. I did my school work, applied to graduate schools (in psychology), and almost nothing else, but Ingrid was always doing an art project or working on a film. I remember her working for days at a time on her films. Years later when I tracked her down through the internet, I saw that the films she made in college were now for sale on a videotape. Every now and then we’d get involved in some big cooking project together. Once, Ingrid found a recipe for homemade Kalua and insisted that we make it. In those pre-Starbucks days, it involved large amounts of vodka and instant coffee (Yuck!). We shared a stereo. I remember none of the records I owned at the time, but Ingrid introduced me to Patsy Cline and I still sing along when I hear her songs.
After college, Ingrid and I didn’t do a good job of staying in touch. I always figured though that at some point I’d make it out to California with my wife and daughters. Ingrid always struck me as someone who did what she set out to do and I’m sad that my daughters never got the chance to meet her, see the example she set, and laugh with her.
Jonathan Steinberg
Cincinnati, Ohio
February 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
The Catnapster
Iggy Bob and Ingrid, modeling the latest in fleece and cat-fur napping blankets. Iggy Bob has a Catster page and requests the honor of your presence. Now.Wednesday, January 30, 2008
A Life in Pictures
These are the photo posters that we put together for Ingrid's funeral in Boise. Please make sure to click on each poster in order to see it at a viewable size.Monday, January 28, 2008
The Only Good Gift
Ingrid and I gave each other more than a few presents over the years. But once we grew up, we developed a winter holiday ritual.
Every year, she'd send me a CD of music she was sure I'd never listen to otherwise, and I got to see how her taste in music grew and changed over tme. Music was the measure of her life. And every year, I'd send her some sort of interesting and unusual calendar, because she was interesting and unusual, and because I wanted to give her time.
Time was important to us--we talked often about the many years we had loved each other, the ways our friendship had matured and changed, and what we would be like as old women.
In the end, it turns out, we gave each other the most important thing we had to give. We gave each other time.
I consider it an honor to have been part of the progression of Ingrid's life--to have known her as a girl and to see the woman she became.
I miss them both.
--Caren Crockett
Every year, she'd send me a CD of music she was sure I'd never listen to otherwise, and I got to see how her taste in music grew and changed over tme. Music was the measure of her life. And every year, I'd send her some sort of interesting and unusual calendar, because she was interesting and unusual, and because I wanted to give her time.
Time was important to us--we talked often about the many years we had loved each other, the ways our friendship had matured and changed, and what we would be like as old women.
In the end, it turns out, we gave each other the most important thing we had to give. We gave each other time.
I consider it an honor to have been part of the progression of Ingrid's life--to have known her as a girl and to see the woman she became.
I miss them both.
--Caren Crockett
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Give It a Squeeze
I met Ingrid in the early 1990's in San Francisco. At first we were simply co-workers, but it was inevitable that we would become friends. How could you not with her? She was a fun-loving, mid-western-slang-slingin', creative, and talented gal.
I also had the honor of doing a few video projects with her and got to witness just how professional and meticulous she was about her own work as well. I admired that in her. But the best part about her was the sayings that would periodically come flying out of her mouth. Our friend Mark just reminded me the other day how she always said, "You know what really chaps my ass?" I also remember while we were filming "Mister Sisters" there was some line about tube socks in the script. Lisa and I talked her into "hipper" dialogue, but we laughed our asses off and as a compromise she shot the tube socks so at least they would make an appearance in the movie.
Her accordian was another great thing about her. She loved playing that thing, and it showed. While she and my partner Christina were doing their act Cabaret Tormento, she made a T-shirt with a great photo of them that says, "Strap one on and give it a squeeze." Well said, Ingrid! (I continue to proudly wear the shirt to this day.)
I think what I will remember most about her is her infectious laugh and her walk. She kind of bopped and bounced, especially when she was in a hurry (usually!).
I'm still in shock. I miss her dearly, but I know that I am a better person from having known her.
Peace out, Ingrid.
your pal, sal
--Sally Carter
I also had the honor of doing a few video projects with her and got to witness just how professional and meticulous she was about her own work as well. I admired that in her. But the best part about her was the sayings that would periodically come flying out of her mouth. Our friend Mark just reminded me the other day how she always said, "You know what really chaps my ass?" I also remember while we were filming "Mister Sisters" there was some line about tube socks in the script. Lisa and I talked her into "hipper" dialogue, but we laughed our asses off and as a compromise she shot the tube socks so at least they would make an appearance in the movie.
Her accordian was another great thing about her. She loved playing that thing, and it showed. While she and my partner Christina were doing their act Cabaret Tormento, she made a T-shirt with a great photo of them that says, "Strap one on and give it a squeeze." Well said, Ingrid! (I continue to proudly wear the shirt to this day.)
I think what I will remember most about her is her infectious laugh and her walk. She kind of bopped and bounced, especially when she was in a hurry (usually!).
I'm still in shock. I miss her dearly, but I know that I am a better person from having known her.
Peace out, Ingrid.
your pal, sal
--Sally Carter
Friday, January 25, 2008
Everybody Who Knew Her Is Richer
I'm sitting here bawling even though I only met Ingrid a few times. Such tears are for life wasted, love lost, dreams exploded, hopes up in smoke and plans that vanish into thin air - a part of the life cycle that really transcends our ability to understand.
I will continue to send warm and loving thoughts to you all…The cruelty of not having the time to say all of your goodbyes has to be tempered with the fact that she knew how loved she was by each and every one of you, her support through this abrupt and shocking ordeal.
You're all in my thoughts and prayers. Give yourselves and each other hugs for me, as you hold and comfort each other.
…
There's really nothing that can be said to make this ordeal less painful. It's such an unthinkable waste to lose good people in the prime of their lives, to say nothing of so suddenly! I believe the LGBT community has learned a lot and taught a lot to the rest of the world about care-giving and sharing responsibility, etc., during these events that take young people away prematurely from such dreaded diseases.
It may sound trite at this point, when you're feeling so raw, angry, disappointed and bereft, but the memory of Ingrid, her passions and causes will indeed live on in each of you, as well as the tons of friends who grew to care about her throughout her all-too-brief lifetime. Everybody who knew her is richer for that; everybody who cared about her is better prepared to take on life's challenges because of what they learned from her.
I've been in similar shoes to yours and know enough to know that peace will only come in its own time, probably on a different schedule for every single person in her various concentric rings of relationships. As you know, there's no “formula” or “cookbook” available for making it to the other side of the pain... Each will have to be patient with and supportive of the others whose schedules for recovery are different from their own. Some may be able to make it through the day without weeping after a few days or a few weeks - others will take a lifetime - and nobody's doing it "right"... Everybody's dealing with their own fragile-broken relationship system, various demons, family histories, genetic predisposition, and myriad other of their own realities, in addition to their own attempt to make sense of this senseless situation...
Be gentle with yourselves and each other; no time to take any perceived or real "slight" personally; everybody's feeling too wounded to be held terribly accountable for some inappropriate "this", unreasonable "that", or thoughtless "the other thing"... This is a time to celebrate the tragically short life of a remarkable woman, not a time for "shoulda", "if only" or recriminations, internalized or externalized... Hugs-n-kisses... Wish I could be closer to do the hugging myself...! I'll be thinking of you as you make your way through this nightmare - and you will...
--John David Dupree, Denise’s uncle (excerpts from e-mails to Denise, with permission)
I will continue to send warm and loving thoughts to you all…The cruelty of not having the time to say all of your goodbyes has to be tempered with the fact that she knew how loved she was by each and every one of you, her support through this abrupt and shocking ordeal.
You're all in my thoughts and prayers. Give yourselves and each other hugs for me, as you hold and comfort each other.
…
There's really nothing that can be said to make this ordeal less painful. It's such an unthinkable waste to lose good people in the prime of their lives, to say nothing of so suddenly! I believe the LGBT community has learned a lot and taught a lot to the rest of the world about care-giving and sharing responsibility, etc., during these events that take young people away prematurely from such dreaded diseases.
It may sound trite at this point, when you're feeling so raw, angry, disappointed and bereft, but the memory of Ingrid, her passions and causes will indeed live on in each of you, as well as the tons of friends who grew to care about her throughout her all-too-brief lifetime. Everybody who knew her is richer for that; everybody who cared about her is better prepared to take on life's challenges because of what they learned from her.
I've been in similar shoes to yours and know enough to know that peace will only come in its own time, probably on a different schedule for every single person in her various concentric rings of relationships. As you know, there's no “formula” or “cookbook” available for making it to the other side of the pain... Each will have to be patient with and supportive of the others whose schedules for recovery are different from their own. Some may be able to make it through the day without weeping after a few days or a few weeks - others will take a lifetime - and nobody's doing it "right"... Everybody's dealing with their own fragile-broken relationship system, various demons, family histories, genetic predisposition, and myriad other of their own realities, in addition to their own attempt to make sense of this senseless situation...
Be gentle with yourselves and each other; no time to take any perceived or real "slight" personally; everybody's feeling too wounded to be held terribly accountable for some inappropriate "this", unreasonable "that", or thoughtless "the other thing"... This is a time to celebrate the tragically short life of a remarkable woman, not a time for "shoulda", "if only" or recriminations, internalized or externalized... Hugs-n-kisses... Wish I could be closer to do the hugging myself...! I'll be thinking of you as you make your way through this nightmare - and you will...
--John David Dupree, Denise’s uncle (excerpts from e-mails to Denise, with permission)
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
We Are Family
At Kuna Caves with her Mom and Dad in 1981. See that black hole just beside Ingrid, with the rickety-looking ladder? That's the entrance to the Kuna Caves. After Ingrid, the caves are the most famous thing about Kuna.
With Brett and Amy, stylin' in her short shorts and rainbow suspenders.(Courtesy of Amy Rubin).
What Babies We Were
Ingrid is about 19 in this photo, so that makes me about 17. This was taken at my house outside Kuna, just before we left for Boise so I could shoot photos of Ingrid for some reason that I can no longer recall. This photo proves three things: 1. we were, in fact, young once; 2. old photos are very poor quality; and 3. Ingrid used to wear Easter-yellow pants.
Fatale Attraction
Even if you don’t know Ingrid’s name, you probably heard of Fun with a Sausage or L’Ingenue, both videos some of the first ones distributed by Fatale Media. They played at the film festivals back in the early 1980s.
“People loved them,” says Fatale Media President Nan Kinney. “Lesbians were taking themselves so seriously in those days, it was grim. Then along came Ingrid and she made them laugh at themselves. Her sense of humor was a delight.”
We mourn the passing of a witty, intelligent woman who wasn’t afraid to break the rules.
--From "In Memoriam", posted on the Fatale Media web site (with permission)
“People loved them,” says Fatale Media President Nan Kinney. “Lesbians were taking themselves so seriously in those days, it was grim. Then along came Ingrid and she made them laugh at themselves. Her sense of humor was a delight.”
We mourn the passing of a witty, intelligent woman who wasn’t afraid to break the rules.
--From "In Memoriam", posted on the Fatale Media web site (with permission)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
