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Gene

The Source

He told me that if I used his real name I’d be in trouble. Although he didn’t seem to be carrying a gun (you see so very few of those at the Strawn Art Gallery these days) I will abide by his wishes. He said, “In fact, I’d rather you wouldn’t mention me at all,” but then he smiled a smile that seemed to give at least partial permission to tell his tale. I’ll call him Gene. Gene attended the first girls’ volleyball game to be played in Jacksonville. He said he didn’t remember the year, but, “Up ‘til then all a girl we allowed to do was be a cheerleader. Volleyball sort of broke the ice.” Although he added that he had very little interest and almost no knowledge of volleyball, he wanted to show the girls that the community supported their efforts. “I guess if you can’t do it, you go watch it.” And that pretty much sums up the thing I like best about Gene. He’s always considered himself to be a fellow without any particular talent so he spends his off hours supporting those who do. Our last chat was at the opening of the Strawn’s current offering, a collection of watercolors featuring fish, beautifully painted by a Chicago artist who had driven down for the gallery talk. Gene was there, champagne glass in hand, and listening carefully as the lady spoke of painting long-nosed gar fossils from the Field Museum. I jokingly asked him if he had attended the gallery show by mistake, thinking perhaps that it was the opening of a new Bass Pro Shop. He said, “I always like these things. …getting to meet the artist. I’m just so glad that Jacksonville has the Strawn and the other places.” That’s Gene in a nutshell. He doesn’t attend because he knows all about it, but because he doesn’t. His is a curiosity born of caring about what others are doing, what makes them tick, and most particularly, what makes a town a community. I’ve often joked with him that when he dies his most valuable assets will be his collection of season tickets. And if you’re on Gene’s Christmas list you’ll receive no neckties or fruitcakes…it’ll be a ticket to the symphony or a season pass to JHS athletics. Ask anyone who’s an organizer of our town’s activities. The local theatre director probably won’t need more actors and the football coach will have plenty of players. What both “coaches” need are more supporters, more audience members who contribute by simply attending, more Gene’s. It’s a running joke among performers in small towns that in a community the size of Jacksonville you need a larger bag of songs, a more varied repertoire than if you made you living singing or dancing or acting in Chicago. You can play the night scene in Chicago for two years and never encounter the same crowd, but in a small town you’ll see the same faces at most events. It’s a tough problem for the performer, but it’s a joy to indeed see so many of the same faces at our community’s activities. Two of my favorite gals live in Chapin…senior citizens who’ve been around the ballpark a few times, but they still manage to attend nearly every cultural and sporting event in our community. I once joked with them that I could never start a performance without them in attendance. They answered me plainly… “You’d better not!” Such is the loyalty of so many in our area. The local arts and school groups often complain that it’s impossible to find a night when their event doesn’t conflict with at least two others. If this is a curse, then may God continue to smite us. Most communities our size would give anything to be blessed with such a plethora of galleries, teams, and performing groups. There are simply not enough weekends in the year to fit them all in. The conductor may lead the band, but it’s the Gene’s who fill the seats. The basketball coach designs the plays, but without Gene’s in the stands the program would fold. Anyone in the performance workforce knows that what happens onstage or on the court is only half the show. The “fuel” of the event is in the audience…sitting somewhere near Gene. The only reason you perform, you act, you draw, you sing, is to bring that art to someone else. The Chicago artist finished her short lecture on finding fish in watercolors and I turned around to talk to Gene. He was gone. JHS was playing ball that night.