Kelly Petersen, one of the people who helped to make Winston-Salem the place I call home, passed away this week. I want a recount, because the wrong person got taken at the wrong time: way too soon. I was one of those kids who was moved around a fair bit. Not excessively so, but enough to claim attendance at more than a handful of schools.
I was usually neither here nor there on the matter, being an adaptable enough kid and open to life's little adventures.
Funny, though, that I as I got older, I started craving a place to call home. I befriended so many people in college who could return to childhood homes, towns, communities; and enjoy the benefits of having roots extended everywhere. Sometimes, they would share with me the bane of that blessing, too many people in their business, occasional boredom, and the desire to live in different parts of America or the world. I could see both sides, but eventually decided that one of these days, I wanted to find a place to call home. A place that would claim me as happily as I could claim it, for better or for worse, in sickness and health, in good weather and in bad.
But that's how life is, isn't it? No matter what you get, you can't help but spend a little bit of time wanting what you didn't get. You can't help but wonder if the grass really is greener on the other side. (It's not, by the way, unless you put some work into making it greener.)
The circumstances of my moving to Winston-Salem as a young adult were reasonably straightforward. I met the place when my friend Karen and I saw an ad for this thing called a poetry slam. At the time, we were sharing a little apartment in nearby Greensboro and were looking for an activity to shake things up that night. Long story short, those people at the poetry slam, those eccentric, friendly, upbeat, unwound Winston-Salemites, had me instantly hooked on their community. I wanted to be a part of that, and they were kind enough to invite me in. Literally. Invited to make a home. I will never stop being thankful to them.
When I moved to Winston, it was starting one of North Carolina's most dramatic and successful downtown revitalizations. I never lived anywhere but downtown, or in the West End, so I had the privilege each day of jogging through Old Salem, enjoying the spring tulips at Reynolda Gardens, and walking to the old Morning Dew Coffee Company to see my friends, learn chess, and just be. Friday downtown art hops began, in which gallery owners and artists would show their latest creations while local bands played for the crowds. Restaurants, good ones, began to open downtown. Music made the place a weekend destination. Lots and lots of working, successful, happy artists began to make downtown Winston-Salem their home.
Kelly Petersen was responsible for the drive behind much of that revitalization. Not only did she create art, but she organized other artists in such a way that she created a foundation and a legacy for others to follow. She smartly built and invested in organizations that began to run on the energy of the community. She showed up at other people's shows instead of just those at which she was represented. She appreciated and encouraged all forms of art and entertainment. Kelly was cheery, friendly, and was open to just about everything. She was an artist in every sense of the word, and Winston-Salem is a lucky place to have had her.
Because of Kelly, I think a lot more people chose to call Winston-Salem their home. That is a rare gift, indeed. Lug and I hope to give our Little Lioness that same gift, that being a community to always call home, and the freedom to explore others with our love and encouragement. You lived big, Kelly. We should all be so lucky, Kim
Kelly walked this way By Gary Ljungquist
When that girl from Ipanema walked the beach
The boys said Ah ! Ah !
The bossa nova, part of the farewell rite
For Kelly! What an idea, I thought,
As I smiled at the song choice:
Kelly walked this way.
What a vision with her long strides down Trade Street
On a hot summer day in a long summer dress !
All the workmen’s eyes said Ah ! Ah !
As they turned their heads and wondered at her grace
But also wondered at her power.
She laughed the giggle of a young girl and then
Added a more grown-up laugh.
The giggle seemed to say I like it
When boys look at me dumb-struck,
And the grown-up laugh seemed to say
Watch out and don’t mess with me.
I own this street. I own this building.
I own this town .
Kelly walked this way.
What a wonderful body that girl from Ipanema had
As she strutted down the beach in Brazil !
What a wonderful body Kelly dwelt in
As she strode down the street with us !
That heavy summer day, she seemed to control even the heat.
How proud I was to walk beside her
And share in her glow. The sunshine
Had nothing on her as she shone
On those who basked in her luminous big self.
Kelly walked this way,
And we are glad to have walked along.
And her tracks are warm for us still.
I'm just devastated. It just simply never occured to me that a spirit such as hers could be subdued, I never thought for a second things were going this way. Apologies and heartfelt sympathy to all touched by her life such as I, a grievously reclusive friend.