Jan. 27, 1992
Family and friends gathered from all over the country to honor the life of our beloved Gale. We met in the dance studio where Gale often folk danced in the town of Ipswich, Mass. For Gale, dancing was an ultimate expression of joy and community, a magic way of weaving “invisible threads.” …
There was a close community in the studio that day! The deep emotions of both sorrow and joy were woven together: the pain and anguish of saying farewell, and the joy of her gifts to us all, of her love and life. The mood was at times meditative, as we silently made our own connections with Gale’s spirit, which was so present. Often the room resounded in beauty as “Amazing Grace” and many other favorite songs welled up in layers of harmony. Sometimes the room rang with laughter as we recalled her joy and humor. At one point, a Russian folk group that Gale had been part of sang with a lusty Russian peasant quality, evoking images of the harvest. …
In the studio after dinner, we danced some of the circle dances that Gale loved. There were more songs performed, some written for the occasion in memory of Gale. The hours passed, people stayed on, children fell asleep at the edge of the dance floor, friendships were renewed, new friends were made. There was the luxury of time for communication, and then we drew to an end with a large swaying circle and song.
The following morning, those who wished gathered before sunrise to climb a hill near a quarry, where Gale had so often sat to write. Bundled against the clear 10-degree air, we stood silently gazing at the eastern shore, the river and marsh spread out beneath us, and watched as the morning sun rose. There was some poetry, a drum beat and a song, and scattered ashes. We stood enjoying the beauty, and some late-comers climbed to join us. After a while, we began to descend, and to our surprise, the sound of a penny whistle filled the air, the notes tumbling out with joyous abandon. We stood transfixed with the pleasure of listening, mixed with the memory of Gale’s own lovely silver flute melodies. Someone had known just how to end this morning reverie.
By Sara Kreger, who was Gale’s mother-in-law.