In loving memory of Beth Avary (nee Schaefer) 14th of April, 1941 — May 4th, 2008.

Born Mary Elizabeth Schaefer in Indianapolis, Indiana to Edward George and Mildred Virginia Schaefer (nee Patterson). A painter since the age of 4, Beth studied art at the Chicago Art Institute and Northwestern University before graduating cum laude from the California College of Arts and Crafts. As a flight attendant ferrying troops to Vietnam she met Air Force pilot Donald Davis Avary, whom she later married.

Beth and Don dropped roots in the San Francisco Bay Area where they raised three children, Diana Kimberly Avary, Arthur Colbert Avary, and Eric Roberts Avary. Beyond these Beth is also survived by her daughter-in-law Michelle Lynne Avary (nee French), wife of Eric and mother to Beth’s grandson, Beckett Roberts Avary, as well as her loving partner, Bill Slay, of Boulder Creek, California.

During the family years Beth remained committed to her art which was inspired by the works of symbolist painters. Her work explored various genres of art, including Visionary, Space, and Fantasy before settling on a celebration of landscapes that she termed Naturalistic Expressionism.

“Painting is a form of communication that is different than words… You always grow as an artist. There is never an end to the growth, and what keeps me going is the feeling that I’ve accomplished something and mastered something new. It’s such a joy to paint because you see a painting evolve and manifest, and you never know exactly how it’s going to turn out.”

In April of this year Beth was diagnosed with neuroendocrine carcinoma. She fought bravely and gracefully with the same open and optimistic attitude that she had maintained throughout her life. She remains an inspiration to all who’ve known her.

The Avary family will hosting gatherings throughout the day of Saturday, June 7th, beginning as early as 11:30 Am at Dinah?s Garden Hotel, followed by a 2:00 PM memorial at Alta Mesa Cemetery in Palo Alto, California.

No flowers, please! If you feel moved to give something, please consider donating to The Carcinoid Cancer Foundation.

Mom was a seeker. A seeker of the sublime and the beautiful, of Spirit in it’s myriad forms…. In daily life… In Faerie Tales… In her musings on life and relationships… In adorning herself and her space with precious whimsical objects; figurines, stones and jewelry, clothing and fabrics, patterns and color and texture. A lover of fantasy and of the imagination… Always the imagination. Where the mind and the heart and the spirit converge. Mom created a sense of the creative space… Artfully eclectic and disparate, but always composed in an effortless way. The world she continuously created felt like a kind of temple of the imagination that inspired free thinking, love, and togetherness.

I want to say something about her artwork in this light. For her art was a process and a journey. For the last two decades she sought to make a living from her paintings. by one measure you could say she was never successful. By another, more important measure, she succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. This was revealed in it’s absolute and undeniable truth every time a person looked at one of her paintings and felt a bit of their spirit awakened or touched. The scope of her work… inner space, outer space, fantasy, and finally the thing that always guided her… a celebration of the natural beauty around her, bespeaks the scope of her life. The young adventurous woman, the mother, the woman struggling to find herself, the woman touched by her experience of spirit who built a home in the mountains where she could live out her days surrounded by the very works of god that had given her direction, and yes, even salvation.

Mom had an unshakeable faith and belief in the people she loved. The number of times she inspired me and sought to lift me up when I was down are simply too numerous for me to recount. The gift of her patience and understanding as I struggled to find myself or lift myself up when I was depressed stay with me as I now move forward. For me she has now taken her place in the celestial sphere of the stars that she loved so much. For me she is an entire constellation that I may now regard and admire from my worldly position…. A constellation that I may now refer to as I do my best to navigate through the slings and arrows of this outrageous, blessed thing that we call life. And just as she has taken her place in the heavens she has found also a home in my heart, where I can invoke her or summon her as an aspect of myself.

I guess I am trying to say that she has touched me on every level of my being, that she is a part of me, and that within my heart she always has a place for her spirit to visit earth.

I have always been interested in art, and have in various ways even pursued an artistic process. My realization now is that this was a gift from her. Not an inborn talent by any means. I realize now that my affinity for art was my way of being close to mom. I love her so much that I fashioned myself into an artist just to have that in common with her… and also to experience some of the joy and insight that she was able to experience through her artistic process.

And now, as I consider what I might do in my life in terms of artistic exploration, I feel blessed by the gift of it. A gift that came from her. She shaped me into the man I am, and will continue to influence me as I move forward. Artistic process aside I am saying that mom taught me a great deal about how to live, and in the many years yet before me will continue to be a guide and a teacher.

MOM! I can’t believe I’m standing here speaking these words! And yet…. here we are. Thank you, Mom. For everything. For every nod and wink and playful gesture. For your words of wisdom, for your patience and understanding and your endless ability to listen. I’m grateful to have you as my mother.

I love you so much…

I would like to read a poem now to honor Beth. And even if it is called ‘Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep’ please forgive me if I do…

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am in the softly falling snow.
I am in the gentle showers of rain,
I am in the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the gentle rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am in the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

We would like now to open things up a bit. All of our words to this point have been about inviting Beth’s spirit to join us for a moment, and to provide a space in which we can honor her, cherish her, and send her off on her next great adventure.

The spirit is here with us now, and we would like to give it the opportunity to speak through all of you. Please do not feel you have to say anything, and please do not feel any need to choose your words carefully.

Do not be afraid of silence. It is okay… Wonderful and beautiful in it’s own right. You will know if the spirit moves you to speak.

My first encounter with Beth, was the return of Don from Vietnam and both were staying at 2073 Santa Cruz.  I walked into the back bedroom and there stood a tall and willowy woman in bikini panties, no bra, slightly tangled hair at her shoulders, her right hand twirling a curl of a lock between her fingers. A gesture that would be recognized over and over thru the years. A quiet smile that rose with the end of her lips and cheeks almost signature of Beth and can be seen in the photo recently shared by Kimi.

She seldom engrossed in small talk, but appeared to listen and sometimes one wasn’t sure she was even listening, perhaps her art were her words because she lived on the tree tops, in the celestials of the heavens and the mind.

Her brief illness and last days and quiet passing surrounded by the full support of family both close and extended, showing no fear and I suspect quiet acceptance of the ëahead of her or perhaps resignation to the fate of the Gods.

She leaves a hugeness of her presence, a legacy to her children, her ex husband; close and entrusted friend, her loving companion Bill, a multitude of friends, the art world.

I keep hearing that her art will live on and indeed it will, but it is Beth and her spirit which live on permeating beyond her art, the love of animals, the individuality of a pioneer woman.

Her children, Kimi, Eric, Arthur are her legacy!