CHRISTINE WALKER: A LIFE LIVED TRUE

Last Friday, our cherished friend’s life was tragically cut short in an auto accident in Iowa. Christine Walker should be remembered because, although she lived her life as an artist quietly, she had a lot to teach us all. Christine was one of those people who lived life fully—something many of us strive for but are not able to achieve.

My wife and I spent a week with her this past September, when we felt were ready to make a move from Connecticut to a quieter, gentler place—Iowa. Christine invited us to stay with her in her humble cottage beside the National Guard Armory in rural Fairfield, Iowa. Although we did not end up moving, we had the wonderful experience of spending a week with Christine.

Christine was generous. She was a real, no-bullshit, no-punches-pulled woman. She was also subtly beautiful with her slight build, reddish brown hair, milky-light Irish skin. Her strongest, most striking element were her penetrating blue eyes which always felt they were looking deeper into me than almost anyone else ever has. Her eyes were what revealed her trueness best—they sparkled and they were clear.

While my wife and I and our youngest son were with her, we were in the throes of making major decisions: First of all, whether we should move. Second, if the private Maharishi school was the right one for our son, and third, which house we should rent—the oversized sprawling mansion on a hill outside of town or a more humble brick house close to the school. Our indecision on these—and some other fronts—seemed fairly monumental to us but Christine had a way of cutting directly to the quick, which enabled us to decide each issue with minimum fuss!

Christine’s lifestyle fascinated me. She lived alone, having been divorced for twenty years. My teenage son found it frustrating that her television only received one channel—I found it endearing. What I found revealing was her collection of highbrow magazines including The New Republic and The Economist—interesting selections, I thought, for a woman who was a sensitive and accomplished artist. But that was Christine, difficult to define and especially good at being her own person. The absence of TV forced me to update myself on issues I would have otherwise never considered, but luckily Christine always available to engage in ensuing discussions on subjects ranging from politics to spirituality with many stops in between. She was one of the most fun people to talk to I’ve ever met.

Last February, when returning from a working trip to Madagascar, I arranged a stopover in Paris for a day. Christine had been spending time there with her lovely daughter Judith, an art student. I met the two of them at Judith’s apartment, which of course was filled with paints and canvasses. We headed off to lunch at their favorite restaurant on the Right Bank.

Those few hours spent with Christine and Judith turned out to be one of those small blocks of time which, when considered later, turns into a kind of precious jewel. When I think back, all the hours surrounding our luncheon have somehow disappeared; the bus ride into Paris from Charles de Gaulle airport, the walk from the Arc de Triomphe, where the bus dropped me off. What remains is the time spent sitting in the restaurant with Christine and Judith. Although I couldn’t tell you now what we talked about, what I do recall is the feeling around the table. The feeling was one of an exchange of love between mother and daughter, and the love they had to offer to a friend.

When I am doing a good job of being a writer I remember small moments that are somehow windows which allow me to see through the world of shapes and sounds into the reality of things. The luncheon in Paris was one of those moments. It makes me happy to think that Christine’s life provided many of these moments to all those who knew her. I am privileged to be in possession of this small jewel of time spent with this remarkable woman. I hope that whenever I think of Christine, she will feel the great appreciation I have for who she is and the love that she so easily and genuinely inspires.