07 January 2005

KJC stories

"I know it's a silly story, but I will never forget it."

The quote above is from Craig Bork, who hit it on the head. (He sent me an email with a great Kellie-story that I've shared at the bottom.)

There's an old Hindu proverb that goes: "Tell me a fact and I'll learn. Tell me a truth and I'll believe. But tell me a story and it will live in my heart forever."

Besides my own (rather lengthy) post about Christmas Day, Kellie stories have appeared on other blogs this past week: Jon T's, Terry Moe's, Bridget's, to name a few.

On this post, I'm asking people to share their own Kellie stories, or thoughts, or whatever.

If you're on the main page: Click the (#) comments link (at the bottom of this post) and you can first read what other people have shared. (If you're on the permalink page, you will already see people's comments below.) At the bottom, you can Post a Comment. A sign-in box will ask you to enter username/password (if you have a blogger account) or just click the: Or Post Anonymously. A box for typing in your story appears and when you're done, hit Publish Comment. (You might have to hit your browser refresh button to see your comment posted) Whaddya waiting for?

Also, for those who asked:
Kellie's SF Chronicle obit is linked


Craig's Kellie Story
When Kellie, Tim Lyons and I were all in Phoenix and you in SF, Tim and Kellie decided to visit me late at night while I was living at my parents house. I was about to go to sleep when a tap comes on the bedroom window from the hand of Kellie. I got her to the front door and Kellie and Tim were there seeking to get high. Went and grabbed a baggy of weed and headed down to Clarendon school where we proceeded to head out onto the field to toke up. I had the baggy in my hand and was proceeding to fill up a pipe when a police light shined directly on us. We were directed to come to the cop, I stupidly stuffed the baggy in my pants (if I were only smart enough to have poured it out) and when we reached the cop, he asked me to produce what was in my pants and then set me in the back of his police car. Tim and Kellie were mortified. Kellie was begging the cop to let me go, (telling him that) it was her idea to rouse me in the first place. And it turned out, the cop did let me go. On the way back to my house Kellie still wanted to gey high, so I went inside, got somemore pot, we got stoned and I went to bed. I know it's a silly story but I will never forget it.


Anonymous said...

Kellie is still around, and her spirit is still alive within her daughters. And our memories of her will always be there. You never know when she might pay a visit. Just like my dad did once.

I awoke the morning of June 9, 1990, and immediately thought of my dad. This would be the first year that I would not talk with him on my birthday. Needless to say, his memory was very strong within me that morning, and I cried, sad that he was no longer alive.

Every year for my birthday, dad would send a $100 check. "You just go spend this on yourself and have a happy birthday, Peach!" he would write in the card. That morning, after crying about him, I thought to myself, "DAMN, I'mnot gettin' that 'hundred dollar check, either." :)

Riding a scooter in San Francisco on my way into work, I was following a woman motorcyclist, hair flowing from her helmet, heading down 14th. I saw something fly out of her pocket, which I could tell was money. I thought, "Well, it's probably just a dollar bill, so I don't think I'll go hunt it down." BUT BEFORE I KNEW IT, I was making a right turn on Mission, a right on 15th, and an immediate right on Julian Street.

There I sat at the corner of Julian and 14th, sort of stunned at how I had even arrived there. Looking across the street, there was literally a dust-devil, whirling paper and trash every which way. I thought to myself, "Like I'll really find that money that flew out of her pock..." and as I looked down, there sitting at my foot, was a ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR BILL!"

I picked it up, looked up to the sky, and said, "I got it, dad. Thanks!"
Lisa B

Anonymous said...

Two words that come to mind when I remember Kellie :
'Grace' and 'Humor'.
She was and always will be a noble spirit.
When I arrived in San Francisco with hardly anything,
she made me feel at home and helped me get on my feet.
Jack Chandler

Anonymous said...

quite a creative way to use the blog Scott.
I met Kellie briefly here in Portland last summer and she was amazingly upbeat for someone dealing with all the things she had going on. I remember her smile most. I also cracked up at your Phoenix '76 entry a little further down on the main page. Funny

Sue (Gibbons) Welch said...

Kellie was a total hoot. We lived for a while together in a haunted house in Phoenix. The house had a creepy old bomb shelter that we would go down in just to get the creeps. We never did use it for anything but that. People would come over to visit us and things would suddenly flop off the shelf in the wall and fall on their heads. This happened often enough that we would invite people over just to see who would get it. There were other incidents too... eventually we had to move.

Later, when I lived in the Bay area, I visited with Bonnie and Scott as often as I could, even living with them briefly after breaking up with my boyfriend. My best memories of San Fran were of having coffee at Kiss My Sweet, going wilding in Golden Gate Park, and the infamous Halloween night that I was magically transformed, thanks to a deer leg and a tiki mask that I found in her house, into a crazed shaman.

I'll save the UFO story for another time.
I love you Kellie.

Anonymous said...

One more memory. We had a Halloween party at our house in San Bruno in 1984. Kellie came with a brilliant costume. She cut all the nauty bits out of a porn mag and taped them to the appropriate places on her body.
Craig Bork

ScottB said...

that was a classic!

thymius said...

I've got so many stories I don't know where to begin. Lets start with my first day in San Francisco.

I came to SF in June of 1981. June 14th to be exact. It was flag day. The next day I woke up in my new bed. In my new room with hard wood floors. It was the room in the back of the flat. Kellie and Scott were my new roomates. Old friends, but new house mates. I was in heaven.

When I awoke I could hear the birds singing, the cat meowing, and bacon sizzling on the grill.

As I opened my eyes, the first thing that greeted me that cool June morning, was Kellie's crotch. She was nude, squatted over me with her legs spread and my head between them. She thought I had better know where things were since I was a new bachelor in the big city. After my gynecological lesson she gave me a little peck on the cheek and served me breakfast in bed.

I WAS in heaven.

thymius said...

Of course there were also the tit spinning stories. I wonder how many people out there were lucky enough to experience Kellie's tit spinning. She's the only woman I've ever known that was able to spin her tits in opposite directions. I witnessed it twice. Of course the trial and error was just as impressive.

She would start spinning off to the corner of the room. She had glorious bosoms. Really they were perfect. That's why they spun so well.

It took a while but after some time she'd yell out, "Hurry up, look, look". She'd get so excited that by the time you looked they'd be flying everywhere and it was over. If you didn't see she'd get mad. Took a lot of work. Of course me being 21 years old, I never missed it. One time I fell off my chair and smashed a glass. Kellie smiled.

Anonymous said...

So many memories...
The lovely young and eccentric couple from Phoenix. Incredibly friendly people.
The apartment that Kellie & Scott shared on Oak St. I remember the 'cityscape' painting that you did there, Scott.
Kellie's delightful and tranquil way. (Plus her beautiful face and lovely body.)
Life without cars.
Conservatory days.
North Beach gigs.
We shared a sliver of growing up together and I've always had the deepest and fondest of feelings for Kellie and Scott both then and ever since.
Kellie and I reconnected once in e-messages a few years back.
I'm sorry that I can't be there for Kellie's Memorial with all those who loved her.
Jeff Hacker

Anonymous said...

I met Kellie in Phoenix when I was in a band with Randy Sanders back in the 80's. She was a true friend when I need one the most. We had some wonderful times together I will never forget. One time I remember, she was living with Sue Gibbons in the house Sue mentions above. This place really had a strange vibe to it. There were all sorts of weird stories about a music professor owning the house who killed his wife and children or something to that effect. Didn't believe any of them but we were staying there one night and Jack Chandler sworn he heard classic music playing in the front room. One weekend I was bringing Kellie home and Sue and Margie had been gone all weekend so no one was there. We walked into the house and there was this awful odor of puke throughout the house. It was overwhelming. We looked in every room but there was nothing. Again, no one had been home all weekend. The hair was standing up on the back of my neck. Needless to say we got the hell out of there. I'll miss you Kellie but will always remember you. God bless you.
Mark M.

thymius said...

Just one more...

Once at 1445, Scott and I were siting on the couch in the livingroom eating. Kellie was bouncing on the bed in the middle of their bedroom. The sliding doors seperating the rooms were open.

Suddenly, a flash of blue light flashed over Kellie's head between her head and the light fixture above.

She stopped bouncing, Scott and I stopped eating, and'whoa'ed' ourselfs for hours. Anyway...

Anonymous said...

A four by five black and white glossy is all I have of her. In the foreground Kellie, slightly out of focus, nude from the waist up, sits in front of a vanity strung with jewelry, a small perfume bottle, a half burned bowl of marijuana wearing a smile which expresses four fifths joy and one fifth skepticism, that not-quite-ready-to-be-100%-happy smile which holds in it a strand of painful history which, if pulled, unravels the other four fifths.

In the vanity mirror you can see my reflection sitting in a chair focussing a 35mm canon to snap the shot. My image in the mirror is crisp, clear and well focussed. The picture is circa the 1970's, an era mostly forgotten through the haze of marjuana, hormonal changes, and the disappointments of family and love. That time when we all sought to find our voices through love, art, music, sex and drugs.

As I look at this photograph I ask myself "What could this photograph possibly mean? Why is my reflection in focus, but Kellie out of focus? Could it mean that I viewed my own life through the mirror of kellie's life? Could it mean that art is an impression of reality focussed only through the artist's mind? Or was I just too stoned to properly focus the camera on the intended subject? And now, because of some accident or equipment failure, I attribute some deeper meaning to the context of the photo twenty-five years after the fact.

Kellie was my first true love. When I first learned she had cancer I hadn't spoken to her for twenty years. Within a month she was at my door, only a shadow of the girl who had captured my heart and imagination decades earlier. Though a huge gulf of time stood between us we managed a conversation, our roots deeper probably than either one of us suspected. A few months later I was at a reunion in California with other friends I hadn't seen in decades, all brought together because of Kellie.

Like the black and white photograph, my memories of kellie are blurred at best. But the form of her is still there, allowing me as I grow older to fill in the important details as I see fit and put my own life in focus, reminding me that my own definition and persepctive comes only from those whom I have loved. Since Kellie I have had many other loves, but only Kellie can claim the title of being my first.

God Bless You Kellie

ScottB said...

a beautiful post D

Anonymous said...

Poignant, beautiful posts capturing the essence of Kellie, what a woman!

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