Terri Schwartz

Dear family and friends of Terri,
‘Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away …..’ Indeed, ‘yesterday’ we trusted that all our troubles would be over in due time and that we could continue with our monthly gatherings with the ‘English Spoken’ literature group. It is difficult to imagine that we have to gather without Terri. She could be outspoken without pressing her opinion on you. Also there was always space for reconsideration and further thoughts. I still hear her saying …. I don’t know, oh my God …..’. We will miss her dearly. 

Their family and friends of Terri.
I remeber Terri as a warm and lovely neighbour who was always very involved in social issues such as racism and had an eye for disadvantaged groups in society.
Herby I share with you one of our very interesting communication via Whatsapp on June 6th 2020.

On June 6th I text Terri this message.
Yesterday a colleague asked me whether I have ever experienced racism in the Netherlands. I was eating a sandwich with a colleague and he joined us. He couldn't imagine it and added what nonsense he thought it was that people were against Zwarte Piet...while Zwarte Piet is no discussion in Suriname and the Antilles.

For clarification: Zwarte Piet has become one of the most emotionally charged topics in the Netherlands in recent years. Many Dutch people of Antillean and Surinamese descent experience Zwarte Piet as racist. They find the appearance, the role and especially the black or deep dark brown make-up racist, discriminatory and derogatory.

I had to take a deep breath and said to him ... meanwhile another colleague had joined me. I took them back to the time when I was at school in Suriname and the discrimination I had experienced there because I was black and did not belong to the so-called white or usually light-skinned elite in Suriname... that this experience had made me strong which enabled me to confront (institutional) racism in the Netherlands. I told about a few harrowing stories that family and (children) of relatives and former colleagues had experienced with Zwarte Piet in the Netherlands. Like Bina's daughter who did not want her father to come to school for years at primary school during Sinterklaas period because he was a dark-skinned Hindustani ... she could only talk about this through a Collumn in the Volkskrant when she was an adult woman and her parents were only then confronted with these experiences. They had never understood why she was so depressed all the time when their daughter was young. I also told the story of Clark who was a nurse and once heard a little patient that he had to take to the OR screaming ..." I don't want to go to Spain, I don't want to go to Spain..." Later he understood that this patient identified him with Zwarte Piet...and had experienced more situations like this with patients in the hospital... That these harrowing stories and stories from other black people in society have made me distance myself from Zwarte Piet as part of the Sinterklaas celebration. And that if Sinterklaas is a party for all children, all children should look forward to it and enjoy it regardless of their ethnic origin or color... Unfortunately, the conversation was cut short because we had to go back to our class to resume classes. Anyhow I later received in my mailbox the program of the project week for next week that has the theme of RASCISM after the protest meetings around the death of George Floyd

You can read Terri's reaction below.

I try not to look gloomy, but it's hard to feel hope. Just _question_ if you've ever experienced racism — what kind of blinders & earplugs should someone wear in 2020 to _not_ see/hear something like that, I wonder... It is certainly good that a discussion is started, but pffft, what a long way we all have - and I also of course - still have a long way to go! Perhaps this excerpt from the speech at the memorial of George Floyd can be a guide: 'Get your knee off our necks': Al Sharpton eulogy at George Floyd memorial - YouTube

R.I.P. Terri🌷 

It must have been 8 years ago that some neighbors of the Oetewalerstraat had a dinner together. To my own surprised I asked Terri how it should be to have a thanksgiving dinner. I didn't know anything about thanksgiving dinners. She was almost in tears ans said "that she lived already so long in the Netherlands but had never celebrated this dinner'. I learned from Terri that it was the most important thing for families in the US and that people travel from far to be at home. So the two of us came together and organised this dinner where we invited 12 nice neighbors. Terri knew exactly what kind of food there must be, the turkey ofcourse and all the vegetables. We ask each of the eters to prepair a part of the meal and came together in one of our houses. But I must say that Terri prepared most of the food. Besides the food and wine we also had a formal part of the dinner where everybody speaked out loud to tell where he or she feld thanksful for. So Terri brought the last eight years Tanksgiving to Amsterdam, I am really thankful for that. Now I would love to continiu this feast with the people here in the Oetewalerstraat. As a memory so that will Terri stay alive in our hearts.
I also like to tell what happened with the enormous amount of Tibetan Prayer flags - they symbolise compassion - that where hanging on the balcony of Terri's appartment. Anneke ask me what to do with the flags, I answered that it is not a good idea to put them in the public container but that it would be nice to burn them. Some of the flags where completely new. As we had a nice comoing together with neighbors in the street because of the death of Terri we hang these new ones in the public garden where the house is standing, and together burned the old ones. All the neighbord loved the flags so now in this lovely little park around the house we have these prayerflags hanging as a nice memory of Terri.
I am so enourmous thankful for knowing Terri, I miss her a lot, what stays is a warm feeling for this funny and lovely person 

I don't know what to say. I'd been thinking about Terri a lot lately, looking at emails and cards that she sent me over the years; and then I learned that she was dead. Like Lynne, about whom Terri often spoke, I wish that I could share some of the visual materials she sent me.
We met as students in a painting class in the early eighties and quickly became friends. As newcomers to the Netherlands, we were both a little lost and glad of each others' company. We also figured that we weren't the only women who had a difficult time adjusting to the culture. Thus, in 1985 I founded the International Women's Group (Vereniging Internationale Vrouwengroep Arnhem) with a great deal of support from Terri who took responsibility for our brochure and the recruiting of many of our members.
We kept in touch for many years with Terri visiting me in Toronto in 2008. She took me to dinner at an expensive restaurant, wanting to share an inheritance that she had received. Terri was generous and a good friend. It's two years since we were in touch, but I always imagined that we'd see each other again.
Thank you to Anneke for contacting me and for setting up this page. 

I am still processing the news, I want to wish everyone who loved Terri, the strength in dealing missing her presence 

I am grateful to have known Terri. I have known her for about 20 years, we worked together and became friends. She was inspiring in so many ways: her youthful appearance, her colorful apartment, her small diary in which she kept note of every cultural event she visited or course she followed (sometimes several in one day). We’ve seen many movies together (I always let her choose and learned afterwards from her observations), we visited concerts, and the last years we’d have dinner party’s at our homes a few times a year, together with our friend and former collegue Karen. Terri had a beautiful open mind in matters of the heart, and gave wise and mild advice when I asked for it. She was always interested in others, other cultures, other ways of looking at things. And she was idealistic, a silent activist. What I most admire in Terri is her intelligence and sensitivity. She was so modest, yet had so much to share with others. I love her and will miss her. But will try to keep her spirit alive inside of me. 

Terri
Buurvrouw van mijn zus Irma
Zeer betrokken lief mens.
Altijd geïnteresseerd in de mens.
Ik zie haar zitten tijdens de read& eat van mijn broer Clark.
Behalve de bijeenkomst met buurvrouwen van zus Irma, was dat mijn lijntje met Terrie.
Terrie rust zacht, lief mens! 🙏🏿❤️ 

I wish this site would allow photos, because I wanted to share images of some postcards from Terri in case anyone on this list has never received one. You probably know she collected postcards, but she sent them, too, and she knew how to squeeze every tiny centimeter of space out of one with her dense printing. I found three cards--one from India, one from Berlin, and one from the Netherlands--in which she is consistently ecstatic over the sights and sounds she encounters on her travels. She describes cycling through bulb fields: "I was really giddy it was so incredible to see these giant bands of intense color--yellow/white/purple/pink/red, as if someone had just painted the ground or made a gigantic quilt!" In another card, she tells me that "Once again, crazy, colorful, maddening, mysterious India has stolen my heart," and in yet another, "I Berlin" ... "so many, many good museums + exhibitions I've been able to see." 

I knew Terri since we were both 17. So many memories, but I am so happy to read memories from friends in the Netherlands. I had hoped to come to take part in the Thanksgiving last year. And then this year, but that hope is gone. The memory I want to share now--I may add more later--is from 1982. She came to what was then my home in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA, to go to the giant June 12 Disarmament demonstration in NYC, along with me, my future husband Bob, and nearly 1 million others. Terri and I made a banner from an old bed sheet, spray painting birds and fish with a stencil, to symbolize respect for all forms of life and inspired by the Billie Holiday song (Fish gotta swim/Birds gotta fly/I gotta love one man til I die). We got carried away and spray painted the street with the slogan Fish gotta swim/Birds gotta fly/People gotta live without bombs from the sky. Only with Terri could I share my commitment to disarmament and world peace w/love for Billie Holiday and being a bad girl painting graffiti on the street. Well, my landlady was very angry about the painting in the street, even though Terri and I thought it was beautiful and sent an important message. We ended up having to wash it off. But through all the decades we shared a love of many forms of art and a commitment to social justice. 

Terri is gone. She was a good person to live with. Together we discovered the worlds of Egypt, Marocco, India and Indonesia. We found music and theatre everywhere and kept being amazed about all the talent around. We split up a long time ago. I was still hoping to catch up with eachother to talk about what we did and discovered. It ain’t possible anymore. Farewell
Benno 

My previous contribution was merely an explanation of 2 pictures which you can't see because they can't be reproduced. So I'll have another try.

I first met Terri in the reading group at the Linnaeusstraat library. This was in 2017.We discovered a shared horror of early morning hours - meetings of the group started at 10.30 - but also a love of going to the theatre, the cinema, etc. Soon we were a foursome: Terri, Trudy, Herlinde and I. We went to Tuschinski a lot for streamed performances of the London National Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company.Terri was reluctant at first since Shakespeare had not impressed her much in school - but she became a convert.
Then Trudy died, suddenly, while on holiday. That was in November 2019.We three soldiered on. Corona (covid) descended on us. It put an end to all our outings and meetings. But there was e-mail and there were streamed performances on the internet. We shared our findings. Discussed them. We became addicts of The Show Must Go Online, Shakespeare performances of each one of his play every Wednesday on Zoom with each actor/actress taking part from her or his home wherever in the world. This took us through almost 30 weeks. And almost to the end of her life Terri kept sending Herlinde and me Shakespeare sonnets.The last batch came on May 7th.
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day?
And make me travel forth without my cloak?
(Sonnet 34)

The three of us met for the last time in the Tugelatuin on the Tugelaweg on April 20th.
Terri had not been well for quite some time. She mentioned feeling more and more uncomfortable and even in pain and unable to eat much. She did not complain and certainly did not want to discuss her health at length. When we met, in mails or physically, the focus was on things we had seen on the internet, and of course on the US presidential elections. On her hope for a for a brighter future with Joe Biden as president. We all three followed the events closely on CNN.
Her health got progressively worse. Visits to the hospital came, and scans. By now we feared the worst but when the worst came it was even worse than I had expected.

Fear no more the heat o'the sun
Nor the furious winter's wages
Thou thy worldly task had done
Home art gone and ta'en thy wages.

(William Shakespeare, Cymbeline) 

Thinking of Terri
She was always on her way to a performance or a movie, curious about a new sound. Her modesty, her darling laugh and her drive were her trademark.
She introduced Thanksgiving, brought new people and took care of the entourage and the invitations, which were great.
Expressions of gratitude were a recurring element. In Corona-time photo's of decorated pumpkins were digitally shaped.
To end this email in that line, I want to say that I am grateful I met Terri.
I hope that the tradition will continue...thanks to Terri.

Marga 

Wat je moet doen als er iemand dood is gegaan die je niet zo goed kent.
Vrij naar Edward van de Vendel

Mijn buurvrouw is plotseling dood gegaan
Nu weet ik dus
dat ik haar voortaan nóg minder zie
dan één keer per jaar.
Dat vind ik opeens zo’n raar idee
als Pasen
als Sinterklaas
als vuurwerk op oudejaarsnacht,
en ik ben best verdrietig omdat ik bedacht:
ze hoort nu bij nergens
ze hoort nu bij nooit,
mijn buurvrouw
is een datum die weg is gegooid.

Daarom heb ik het net op de kalender gezet,
hier, naast het handdoekje,
op het toilet:
een kruisje, een kusje,
met een vraagteken erbij,
op zomaar een datum,
even zien - negen juni.
Met onzichtbare kaartjes
en onzichtbare taartjes
vieren we iedereen die we ooit zijn vergeten,
denken we terug aan wat we echt niet meer weten.
Een laatste herinnering
aan een allerlaatste lach -
op
nationale
Thanks givings-dag

Rick en Len 

Ooops - being silly already, I mean Tom Wolfe!!! Terri would have a giggle🙄😂 

I’ve not known Terri very long – a couple of years meeting her at the ‘English spoken book club’. Immediately I was captivated by her sparkling eyes full of mischief and her sunny disposition except for when she was talking about political stuff especially shenanigans in the US. Whenever she contributed a comment at the book club I knew that it would be erudite and wise and worth listening to. She led a session about Tom Woolfe whose work she admired and intertwined Woolfe’s writings with stories from her own life and experiences. A quote from Woolfe reminds me so much of Terri that its like she is sitting here speaking it next to me: ‘Make your mistakes, take your chances, look silly but keep on going’. Our last ever exchange was an email she sent me on April 5th saying ‘Bravo Helen’ after I’d sung a song about sunshine - hurriedly and out of tune. Bravo to you too Terri and in fond memory of you I shall keep on keeping on, above all with silliness. 

I was so sorry to hear that my dear friend Terri had passed away. She was a remarkable person - so intelligent, well read and funny - I miss her great laugh. We rarely had to make appointments to meet up as she was often at the same film at the cinema, or the same world music concert at Paradiso. I have fond memories of seeing her dance in leopard skin patterned leggings - wonderfully unselfconscious and liberated in the way she moved. I went on an Egyptian (belly dance) course with her at the UVA - we were both struggling to keep up with the twenty year olds but it was great fun to do this together. And my favourite memory is of going on the boat on Het Ij with refugees to learn about their experiences of trying to leave places of conflict. The last time I saw Terri was at a textile workshop at the Tropenmuseum - and my memories of her will linger, not only when I visit the places we went to together but every time I listen to African music, eat North African food or go to an independent cinema. Every time I dance it will be as if the world will never be touched by the loss of my dear friend. Goodbye, wonderful Terri. 

Dear all,

You all know Terri died 10 days ago.
Before she died she 'adopted' a bench in the Hortus Botanicus on the Muiderstraat. Adopting a bench there means that you donate a certain amount of money to the Hortus, and you tell them it is for adoption. You make your choice among the benches available (many of them having been adopted already) and the Hortus attaches a messing plate (12 by 4 cm) with a text of your choice to this bench.
Terri chose a text by T.S. Eliot from the poem 'East Coker' , one of the poems in the 'Four Quartets'.
She included Herlinde's name and mine because we went to the Hortus a few times (when this was still possible and also last summer, when it was briefly possible) and had a good time there! 

The Shape of Absence

Today Terri’s apartment stands silent. The curtains have been drawn. It has been a few days since her death. Belongings are mostly where they have always been. Terri’s home will soon be dismantled; objects given away or sold.
I had never actually been inside her place before and I entered rather mindlessly, still chattering about something or other – a conversation that had begun on the stairs. Objectively speaking, I was wearing light summer shoes but, psychologically, I quickly realized that I had entered Terri’s apartment in muddy loud rubber galoshes. It wasn’t that it was a person’s private domain – although it was. It wasn’t that it was the domain of a person now dead – although it was. It also wasn’t anything particularly sacred or religious. It was more like something out of To Kill a Mocking Bird and I had unwittingly stumbled into the old tree with the deep hollow where the child, Scout, had stashed her most prized possessions: a cookie tin with three pebbles, two baseball cards, a Mickey Mouse key ring, a yellow bottle cap, a blue marble.
Terri’s sanctuary was a layered coral reef of carefully organized treasure troves – baskets, boxes, shelves, with pebbles, music tapes, little memorabilia, hamsa hands. An exquisitely painted Indian letterbox held her last letters. A circle of small colored glass lanterns hung above the bed where she dreamt her dreams. Terri’s apartment wasn’t a place set up to receive guests; her memories and memorabilia were not for public display.
The poet David Whyte, in one of his musings, used the words the shape of absence to talk about the configuration, the form of the space that goes missing when a person departs. The shape of absence in Terri’s rooms is that of a small, simple, throbbing teardrop.