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Aaron Murphy
1 year ago

It’s been many years since you passed Thelma, you keep popping into my mind from time to time being the most gracious of ladies I even had the pleasure of meeting. Your encouragement, generosity and delightfulness helps foster my love of ceramics and the arts, a truly inspirational person and I always enjoy when you spring into my mind, fondest memories. Aaron Murphy

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Janet
14 years ago

It has taken me a while to write down the words which I spoke from my heart at Thelma's funeral... - it would have been her 90th birthday today, and many will be raising a glass, myself included (in India) in memory of my dear friend and teacher.... I met Thelma nearly 20 years ago, at my degree show at the Royal College of Art – That was the beginning of a serendipitous and inspiring relationship and I became her studio assistant. It didn’t take long for me to discover that Thelma was an artist as well as a potter and as passionate as she was perfectionist in getting the form of the pot right. Thelma taught me more about making pots than I learned at the Royal College – (As a painter in the ceramics department, I was a novice at throwing and so I worked mainly on hand-built pots). In a way I was an apprentice, as well as studio assistant, to Thelma. She taught me so many things it is not possible to put them all into words: “Stand back from the pot – look at it from all angles” encapsulated Thelma’s take on life and how to live it – She taught me not to be precious, to persevere and to “ throw away the ones that don’t work and have another try…” She encouraged me to strive for the perfect form that expressed the energy and life of the pot – for a sense of uplift that spirals outwards and which would be impossible to achieve if the pot was too heavy at the base – Getting all these things right would make the pot ‘sing…’ Even the processes that were involved in preparing the clay were a lesson. Removing the impurities, wedging to get the body of the clay ready for throwing. Glazing and the preparation of the glazes were the most challenging part. Thelma’s beautiful yellow crackle glaze was a technical challenge which always kept me holding my breath during firings as the glaze has to shrink a little more than the body of the pot in order to create the crackle – too much and the pot would crack, too little and the crackle would not be there… This was not for the fainthearted! “To crackle or not to crackle?” was often my question as I waited for the firing to cool so I could open the kiln and find out. Every firing was reviewed - Thelma’s meticulous recipes and notes helped here and were a source of precise technical information as well as her poetic observations and notes–which were useful in deciding on which recipes should be tested or used again – “too shiney-try without tin..” “ nice and hard when raw – may craze (nice crackle?) “ or my favourite: “ a nice opalescent moon glow...” Thelma and I spoke 2 weeks before she died about pots and glazes. I asked her what form she would make if she was making a pot now – She started by describing the glaze -she was thinking that she’d like to have a red glaze – not a brownish red, but a pinky red – the form would open up at the base, and then close in, almost creating a sphere and then open upwards and out. I hope to make such a pot- to try to capture that sense of grace which encapsulates something of Thelma. I will miss Thelma enormously. I am so thankful for her special friendship over 18 years as well as everything that she taught me and shared with me. I have chosen an extract from a favourite poem by TS Eliot which expresses a glimpse of the spiritual element in Thelma’s pots, which transcends time…….and which for me is a reminder of her spirit expressed in their form… Extract from V and IV of The Four Quartets – Burnt Norton, by T S Eliot ….After the kingfisher's wing Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still At the still point of the turning world. Words move, music moves Only in time; but that which is only living Can only die. Words, after speech, reach Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern, Can words or music reach The stillness, as a Chinese jar still Moves perpetually in its stillness. Not the stillness of the violin, while the note lasts, Not that only, but the co-existence, Or say that the end precedes the beginning, And the end and the beginning were always there Before the beginning and after the end. And all is always now.

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Jeni Rabinowitz
14 years ago

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15 years ago

Thelma was my grandmother Millie’s fun, elegant and artistic younger sister. I grew up admiring her as an artist – I was fascinated by the thin and delicate porcelain bowls she had given our family over the years. I always wanted to learn how to make pots like Thelma. Summer of 2004 I was over in Holland visiting a friend. Before I headed home my Dad suggested I stopover in London to see Thelma. I went on a whim and what was supposed to be a weekend stay turned into three weeks. Thelma made me feel right at home and especially, amongst family. The entire Marcuson clan was great to me that summer. Thelma knew I was going through a scare with my health and was incredibly generous with me emotionally. She was kind, understanding, funny, and sometimes blunt. I adored talking to her for hours and hearing her call me darling. I especially loved, when she’d invite me to crawl onto her bed for a nap or a cuddle. Thelma wasn’t making pots anymore by the time I arrived because of her poor eyesight. She knew I was enthusiastic about pottery, and it was a special treat for me when she showed me into her studio and gave me a lesson on how to throw. One day she advised me to stop tying my hair back with elastic bands and to use a hairpin instead (as she always did), for a more elegant look. Back home, whenever I would randomly find a hairpin in my apartment I would think: I should call Thelma. I still felt a strong connection and love for her during our long distance phone conversations. Thelma will always be one of my favourite family members.

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

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Thelma's slightly hooting laugh at something mildly grob sticks with me although I've not seen her for decades. So does the light sting of her hand as she knocked a bottle of her best sherry out of my mouth some 40 years ago. I do wish one didn't lose wonderful people with time and geography.

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

There won’t be a call from my favourite aunt Thelma this year on 13th June. She never missed my birthday, and we always commiserated about being so many miles apart on such happy occasions. One month later it was my turn to call her. Both of our birthdays fell on the 13th. (June and July). Coincidentally, my mother Millie was also born on 13th (September). She was 12 years older than Thelma. After Mill, there was uncle Max and uncle Lionel. Their father, Adolph, who came to South Africa during the time of the Boer War, and Thelma’s brothers and sister were all seriously rebellious with unshakeable belief in their own way of doing things. From my recollection only Sarah, their mother was of a more gentle disposition. Navigating this family dynamic helped Thelma develop her talent for interacting so successfully with people. As we all know, she chose a wonderful life-long companion in Neil, raised a unique family with him, and together they developed an enviable social circle. Possibly some of her ability to fashion such superb ceramic pieces was inherited from her father, who produced beautiful custom-made jewelry. (Sidersky Jewelers is still in business in Johannesburg.) However there was more to Thelma’s creativity and style, which showed up in many other ways. Thelma’s meringues were the highlight of many desserts at family and friends parties. She had a way with floral arrangements and managed a beautiful garden in Johannesburg. Neil and Thelma were generous hosts and one always was made to feel welcome. However there were rare exceptions. She once “educated” the wives of two Americans, who had come to see Neil on business, by quietly informing them that she had many non-Jewish friends, in response to their anti-semitic remarks. Of course they didn’t know where to hide themselves. As others have pointed out, you did well to stay on the right side of Thelma. Alan, Tim and Bobby, and I were in a unique situation growing up in Johannesburg. The family homes were both in Dunkeld a mile apart. So we found ourselves with interchangeable homes and parents from time to time, such as when Thelma accompanied Neil on business overseas, my parents and I would move into their house. Thelma and Millie were the glue that kept the family together. They developed the alternating Sunday lunch ritual. Since both homes were equipped with excellent culinary staff (Sheila and Grace) they were magnets that attracted friends and family having a wide variety of views on diverse subjects. The Marcusons generally invited more intellectuals than my parents who got the bridge and rummy players. Thelma was an excellent judge of character, and accepted Arlette into the family more readily than my own more conservative mother. Millie must have had in mind a traditional South African girl rather than the somewhat bohemian Francophone from Cairo. Arlette and Thelma shared common interests in their appreciation of art and beautiful handmade objects including ceramics and textiles. The delicate porcelain bowls on our mantelpiece always attract compliments from our friends, and are a constant reminder of Thelma’s legacy to us. Arlette and I visited Thelma about a year ago when she was still in charge, despite her failing strength, forcing herself to sit at the table with us for lunch, and suggesting where we should go in London. We were fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend this time with her. It was also her idea to send each one of us in turn for a walk on the heath so that she could have a heart to heart chat with the other. We both shared some good laughs with her and received wise counsel. She knew how to cut through the bs and get to the core of things. She will always be lovingly remembered by us and our children.

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15 years ago

I have been given the honour of reading out some of the messages to the family from friends and relations who could not be here today. Everyone has expressed their great sadness at Thelma’s death, which was surprisingly shocking even though long expected. All have said how much they will miss her and the gap her absence will leave in their lives; and have written of their appreciation of her lovely pots, her insights, wit and often sharp tongue. I will read out some other lines that they wrote: FROM HYAM RABINOWITZ WHO SADLY DIED ON SUNDAY 16TH FEBRUARY IN CAPE TOWN. Hyam wrote this a few days before his own death, in longhand, Jenni & Nik then e-mailed it to us. He was Thelma’s premier potter friend, and by a simple twist of fate, they died within a week of each other. He was buried in Cape Town yesterday Thelma, my friend, my sister, whom I have always loved and admired. One with the courage and conscience to offer a "safe house" in the bad old days of South Africa. Someone I/we could always go to for wise counsel and advice. Thelma and Neil, you both always provided a welcome home for us. Your garden was a beautiful place, and the birds of Johannesburg loved your trees. I remember a time living in the "garage". Thelma and I were in the habit or referring to our premier South African potter Sias Bosch, as "God". There was a call from Neill one Sunday morning: "Wake up you two, God is coming for breakfast!" When thinking of "Neily Boy", I'm always reminded of a sharp corner he took too fast on a dirt road in the Pakhuis mountains of the Cederberg. That corner is still known today as "Neil's Bend". It was an auspicious start to a never to be forgotten trip to see the magnificent flowers of Namaqualand. I am informed that while I write this letter, our names are being mentioned. It is good to be so remembered and coupled with our beloved Thelma. FROM: BARRY CANIN IN JOHANNESBURG Of course both Thelma & Neil (and you guys of course) were my second family and the biggest single influence in my "growing-up" years. I still remember Siema Eliovson remarking to Thelma ".. he spends so much time at 18 Bompas, don't you think he should be paying you rent?" I do hope that Thelma has handed-down many of her famous family recipes; her talent in that department was legendary. To this day gazpacho and beetroot borscht transport me back to those wonderful Sunday lunches under the Jacarandas. Saturday lunches were more informal with Neil & Thel verbally sparring with each other in the most entertaining way (to my mind at least). The cherry on the top was her inevitable barb directed at Alan "God Alan, you're so damn ugly". Oh well lets just celebrate their wonderfully inspirational lives with a double G&T and a bowl of blood red borscht. FROM JACKIE ELIOVSON IN AUSTRALIA …fond memories of Thelma and Neil at Bompas Road –Bobby and Gail’s wedding, She took me under her wing when I joined the Eliovson family as a shy girl not used to Johannesburg life. FROM NOEL CANIN IN ISRAEL Although none of us wanted the Duchess to go on living as she was, there can only be a sense of relief now, I find myself flooded with memories from S Africa, of all of you, and I have such a sense of loss, of a very important circle in my life slowly closing off. Thelly was one of the most important people in my life, her caustic warmth and that glint in her eye when she fixed it upon you, I loved her quirkiness, her humor, her wisdom. So now we go on, aging children that we are, looking at our own children, all of us touched by a truly unique human being - which the Duchess never could see, I told her this once and she just couldn't see her own uniqueness. FROM JOAN PHILIPS IN AUSTRALIA Thel was a wonderful hostess, with those fabulous lunch parties in the beautiful garden, with vast quantities of delicious food and great company. I particularly remember Nina Campbell-Quine , the artist who taught the young William Kentridge, arriving,as usual, with a jewel on her forehead and a sort of a Stetson hat and boots. "Hullo. Nina" said Thelma, " I wasn't expecting a cowboy", to which Nina replied " I'm dressed like this because I knew I'd meet a cow like you". FROM RODNEY WALDECK IN PORTUGAL Thinking about Thelma's death, I was reminded of the Brecht quote: "Do not fear death much, but rather the inadequate life". Now, one can say with some certainty that the one thing your Mother most definitely did not have to fear, was of living an inadequate life. I'm not thinking here simply of her achievements as a potter, large as they were. Her zest for life and generosity, her sense of loyalty and concern for family and friends; her infuriating willingness to lay down the law, or even point out that the tie one was wearing did not properly match one's jacket - they were all, for me, part of Thelma's wonderful, warm, vital and complex personality. So too, of course, was her courage in the face of loss and her love for Neil and her family - a life lived, fully. Death, as Albee has it "is release, if you've lived all right". Thelma certainly "lived all right" FROM BARBARA KLUGMAN IN JOHANNESBURG Thel was my mother's closest friend, and she and Neil played a huge part in creating a space of emotional, social and intellectual comfort for and with my parents and therefore for us as we grew up. Thel was the only of my mother's friends who was able to give me insights into my own mother. In many ways she served as my second mother, able to cut through the issues, and also able to cope with my rather anti-establishment political decisions in ways that provided me personal support when my broader family and community thought I was crazy. I don't know if you all know that she and Neil also provided safe haven to some activists during the state of emergency in the 1980s on my request? One of her mosaic pieces hangs on the wall of my parents' patio and their house is full of her creations, which means she lives with them. FROM PETER GOLDSMID IN JOHANNESBURG I have warm memories of Thelma - sharp, ironic, interested, lively - a woman who inspired friendships and admiration; to say nothing of her exquisite pottery. FROM MARTY SESINK-CLEE IN LUXEMBOURGH In the name of Thelma I hug you all very fondly., sharing your sorrow, I recollect all those wonderful get-togethers, the sharing of friends, art, wonderful meals, good laughs and tender sharing of sorrow over the years. FROM SANDRA FORD IN JOHANNESBURG She was a real matriarch, always so elegant, bright, a wonderful cook, had fantastic taste...... another wonderful character departed. How you will miss her. I am sad I am not there to sing at her funeral - it would have been a privilege to do so. FROM INGRID AND CHARLES MAGGS We really loved Thelma - she was so witty and stylish and funny. We were lucky to be amongst her many friends. FROM MAX & CAROL LEIPOLD AND FAMILY in HERMANUS Even if 89 represents a full innings, we will all miss her MEMORIES OF THELMA FROM EMILY AND MARTHA The way she always smelt the same. It was such a comforting, wonderful smell. The way you could ask her anything. The way she was so interested and strangely perceptive about the oddest things. The way she loved to tell jokes. The way she laughed. The way she could switch between the harshest, the sweetest, the kindest, the rudest, the most hilarious of comments. The way she loved to read. The way she loved to be read to. The way we used to sing together. The way she would regularly call us up to tell us if there was something she thought we’d like to listen to on the radio, or watch on the TV. The way she would regale us with stories- funny, tragic, bizarre. The way her bedroom was the living room. The way we cuddled up next to her. Enveloped by warmth, safety and affection. The way the paper-thin skin on her arms and hands looked and felt. It was endlessly fascinating. The way she had the most delicate bone structure in the world. The way she was always generous and honest in her love. The way she was unapologetically stubborn. The way she loved to feed us. The way she would somehow always see if you dropped a crumb, no matter how bad her sight got. The way she knew a million songs but could only ever remember the first two lines. The way she had the blackest sense of humour, but also the silliest at times. The way you never knew what she was going to say. The way she was, and always will be, the ultimate matriarch. Some classic Thelma remarks to Emily and Martha: "Why is your voice like that, it's not a good voice, you should have voice therapy." "Have you washed your hair?" "Yes." "Really? It looks awful." "Why are you wearing that? You should change into something else. Look in my closet." "I don't like the name Martha. From now on I'm going to call you Marty. " And she did. “Now I am this old I don’t have to pretend anymore; the truth is I’ve always hated Picasso’s work.” “You’re all being so sweet to me. If only you were all so lovely all of the time.” EMILY’S FAREWELL Oh how we will miss; Her unconditional wit. Her unconditional opinions. Her unconditional style. Her unconditional love. Soon before she went she told me to 'Have a lovely life'. Now, I feel bound to obey her. My life so far has been so special and blessed because she was in it. Having her as my grandmother and my friend was a treat, a feat and a privilege. Thelly - I wish you peace and release. I will miss you forever. Thank you for everything. I love you. MARTHA’S FAREWELL Thelly, even with all these anecdotes and memories, no words can express how much I love you and will miss you. I have had the honour of having you here my whole life and I can’t imagine life without you. Thank you for all the wise words, the jokes, the songs, the meals, the love. You have been the most wonderful grandmother. Love you always, Martha

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15 years ago

I feel very honoured to be asked by Alan to talk about Thelma for a couple of minutes on behalf of her stairwell neighbours and I hope I can do justice to this really special lady whom we all loved so much. I first met Thelma in 1993 when I came to live at no 30 with my partner George and son Harry. Helen and Gerry were getting married, a traditional do in their front room at no 27 and we both took our cameras. George filmed the proceedings and then the guests. In crisp tones this forthright lady’s admonishment came out loud and clear– ‘don’t point that thing at me…well on reflection you can point anything else at me but maybe not when Neal is around’….followed by a throaty chuckle. Here was Thelma, beautifully turned out in red, her lovely thick white hair swept up in an elegant, neat chignon. Within days we were invited into their refined but homely apartment full of a lifetime of carefully selected treasures, paintings, tribal art, wall hangings and most importantly Thelma’s exquisite, matchless ‘pots’. Over the weeks, months and years we were included in so many family gatherings and met a countless number of interesting and loving friends who came to spend time with ‘Thelma and Louise’ as we affectionately referred to them. Their front door was invariably ajar, an invitation ever ready to pop in for an evening whisky. Both Neil and Thelma were curious about and interested in OUR lives, Thelma an able listener and dispenser of wise advice when one sought counsel. She had that special knack of seeking out what was interesting in a person’s character. They shared their rows with us too, seemingly having most of them within earshot of the thin walled larder that backed onto the rear entrance. We laughed about them together, ‘I’ll tell you what it’s like living with Neil – look how he folds plastic bags,’ she told me as she pointed out rows of neat little cones stacked in the door of their broom cupboard. But we knew he adored her, his ‘Loulou’, and vice versa. I’ve eaten countless meals at her table and picked up many culinary tips. Ilana and I agree that her meringues are the stuff of legend. There was always a freeflow of good wine, delicious repasts, warmth and laughter. What splendid neighbours, what dear friends, what good luck for us to have chanced this way. When Neil left us the roles reversed somewhat, and we came to treasure her even more, grandmamma of our stairway. She was the ideal role-model for us middle-aged ladies, a wonderful example of how to age gracefully, keeping abreast of contemporary movies and reading matter and always eager to share local non-malicious gossip. When Ilana lost her own mother, she stepped into the breech as a caring, non judgmental confidante. When Thelma’s health declined one could only wonder and admire her stoic stance, self mocking at the pickle she would get herself into when she fell, showing off her spectacular cuts and bruises. As her sight diminished, she busied herself with an abundance of tapes of the classics but always kept her finger hovering over the pause button as she liked nothing better than a cosy chat with whoever dropped by, always encouraging the visitor to join her in a whisky. I know from having talked with my neighbours that we are going to miss very much indeed but undoubtedly her spirit will remain in the stairway for many, many years and she will never be forgotten by us, her Brookfield extended family.

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15 years ago

Hello everyone and thank you all so very much for coming here today to join with us to celebrate, commemorate and to say goodbye to our dearest Thelma – mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, wife, aunt, sister and above all treasured friend to so many people, here and around the world. I also want to particularly thank, Johnny Yglesias, our master of ceremonies and Jeanette Cass, Thelma’s oldest friend living in England and the other family and friends who’ve agreed to say a few words here today. Thelma, Thellie, Mom, - what a character, what a handful! – She who had to be obeyed – especially by her husband and children. Thelma was never wrong – obviously. She was always for me a really complex, obstinate, acerbic, argumentative, forceful, yet pretty open minded person. She was unconventionally, conventional. But above all, she was also warm, loving, generous, artistic and elegant. She had a rare ability to connect with people of all ages and interests and knew the true meaning of friendship, many of which have lasted for over 65 years. She was a great hostess and cook and as we all know good food and lots of it was central to Thelma’s character. Bompas Road and Brookfield were ‘open-homes’ and the scenes of many wonderful gatherings over the years – at which standards were never knowingly lowered and over which she presided with a rigorous eye for fine detail. Our lives were all enormously enriched by the milieu that Thel and Neil created. Regarding Thelma the potter, not a bad one too boot, it always amazed me that Thel could work out her complex clay & glaze recipes, when she seemingly had no head for figures, formulaes or anything technical. But like an alchemist she somehow conjured up great pots which were both fine and beautiful, as I’m sure you’d all agree. My only complaint is that she unfortunately passed on zero of her artistic talent to me. As a child and teenager growing up at Bompas Road, my memories are mostly golden with Mom both loving, protective and formidable – (there simply was no messing with her) and boy could she be embarrassing with no holds barred. But around the age of sixteen, I discovered dagga and girls (I’m not sure in what order) and her rule over me loosened somewhat, no doubt helped by the earlier trails blazed by Alan & Tim, so to speak. As an adult in London when mom and dad arrived in the late 80’s – our lives were enriched. She and dad were were fabulous grandparents to Emily and Martha, they were really so supportive and loving and interested in what we were all up to. I was pleased to have been able to share with her and finally show her my recently published, madcap book of jews about which she was so enthusiastic. She often made suggestions, phoning anytime day or night with her thoughts as to who should be included or not. I have to say I did not take all her suggestions on board. She had a long rich and interesting life, (too long by her reckoning) and it was only really blighted with the tradgedy of our darling brother Tim’s untimely death at 29. She was protected and spoiled rotten by Neilie boy, and often after his death she wanted Alan and I to jump through the same hoops dad did for her. At times, speaking for myself, I fear I did not exactly always come up to scratch in this department, as it was sometimes extremely difficult to accept some of her more outrageous demands. Yet despite our differences, I feel we loved and trusted each other very much. The last several years were not kind to Thelma, especially after dad’s death, her fall and the increasing deterioration of her sight. Her slow and relentless decline was painful for all to see. She was deeply frustrated and incredibly bored by her predicament, but mercifully she passed away relatively comfortably and peacefully, in her own home. In the months before she died I shared many tender and loving times with her, which I will always treasure. I echo Alan’s thanks and praise for Team Thelma, her wonderful group of carers, Teo, Emma, Julie & Lettie, who did so much to look after mom in a patient, caring and dignified manner – to them we owe so much. And a special warm thanks to the Brookfield mob of fabulous neighbours and friends, to whom Thelma’s door was always open, and to all of her other friends here today and abroad who were her true sustenance. Thank you, all of you, for enriching her and my life too. I also want to add a heartfelt thanks, to my immediate family - my darlings, Gail, Emily and Martha, whose love, support and care for Neil and Thelma over the years has been immense and so important to me and I know to Thelma too. And finally, a huge thank you to the rest of my weird & wonderful family, from my dear brother Alan, with all our many shared experiences, to my beautiful sisters-in-laws, Jilly, Merle & Diane and to my nephews, Jake Josh & Sam, their partners, Zoe, Rose and Erica and Matty and Joe Mahon and of course Thelma’s great grandchildren, Lila-Rose & Rudy Valentine. We have all been a great team and I feel so proud to be part of our family which did so much together, to sustain and care for each other and Thelma, right until her end. Thelma, Mom – you touched many of our lives profoundly and I shall miss you deeply. Thank you so much.

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Robin Eliovson
14 years ago

Thelma ... a strong and loveable person who helped enrich our lives. I shall remember her with fond memories of 18 Bompas Road and the clan of family who we found ourselves linked to. Love to Alan and Bobby and their families. Robin Eliovson.

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Noel Canin
15 years ago

Invitation For Thelma Marcuson Where are you now? Walking along a beach, the turnups of your jeans brushing the ends of the day from the waves? Where are you now? Walking on Hampstead Heath, taking a look at the old gypsy caravan, going out to the street? Where are you now? Dining with an old friend, a potter, beautiful duchess of antique rose? A small porcelain bowl on my dresser. In outline, female arms lifted in supplication, inside, my ring and earrings when I go to bed. Where are you now? Where are you now looking out of my window? Where are you now as I go about my day? Where are you now as I live out this time of my life?

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15 years ago

Gosh, so many people come to say goodbye to my Momma. Thank you so much for coming. Well, she was quite a character and today we are here to mark her passing and celebrate the life of a remarkable woman and for me, a most unusual and interesting mother. I discussed the subject of what to do “After” with Thelma on several occasions, the most recent was some time early last year. It went something like this. “So Momma what do you want to happen after you die?” ‘You know very well that I want to be cremated” (Tread carefully Alan she’s in combat mode) “Yes, but what do you want us to do with your ashes?” “Throw them in the rubbish bin of course!” I paused, slightly stunned, even though I have come to know her quite well after 64 years. “Ma, you’re not serious? “I am quite serious and I expect you to do as I say?” It was ever thus! “And your funeral?” “No fuss. No God. I don’t want a big funeral with all the family and friends - and I don’t want you to bring them trooping back here to make a mess of the place. It’s all a lot of nonsense and quite unnecessary.” How to respond? Tough it out. Meet fire with fire. After all I am her son. “Well Momma if you’re around to arrange it that way you can do as you like but since you won’t be – and you’ve always told me that, “ when your dead your dead” - your funeral will be for us – the living. Bob and I will do what we think is best.” No response. Amazing. I pressed on. “And I’d like to have your ashes mixed into the glazes of a few pots for the family.” I could see that the idea appealed to her and we would later talk about it several times. So her ashes will not be going into the rubbish bin. Instead one of Thelma’s great potter friends, Janet Rogers who worked with her in the studio at Brookfield is going to glaze and fire a few of the unfinished pots that she made and never managed to complete. A little of Thelma’s ashes will be mixed into the glaze she uses and those pots will be kept by Bobby’s, Merle’s and my family. I can think of no better physical memorial to my mothers’ memory – and of course the hundreds of other pots she made, wherever they are. Thus we are gathered here today, as Bob’s and my last act of defiance and disobedience of one or two of our mother’s wishes. We feel very comfortable with the decision to give her a good send off and I am sure that all of you here today will agree. Thelma’s declining years were not her best. The loss of Neil after 60 years of marriage, followed by a spell in hospital after breaking her leg and her steadily deteriorating eyesight all contributed to her wish to take leave of this world. She did not hesitate to discuss the matter with her family on many occasions, even exhorting me a couple of times to help her on her way. During one of these ridiculous conversations I had with her (the whole idea of it appalled me) and I was desperate for an out, I came up with what I thought would put an end to the conversation. “ But Ma, I could end up going to jail” “Only for a little while darling.” was her instant reply. She had a wicked sense of humour in both the traditional and modern use of the adjective. When I was younger, she was just my Ma and I knew nothing else. I always knew she was extremely forthright and direct. She was a tough character – wanna see my scars? She would broach any subject often to the embarrassment of those around her – especially her sons. With her unnervingly accurate insights, a sometimes cruel tongue and rapier wit, there was not much you could get away with - or hide from her – a huge disadvantage for a teenage boy. I have to admit that it was not until I was in my 40s that I fully came to appreciate what an extraordinary mother she was. Even in the last weeks of her life, her sense of humour and wit were never far from the surface. We had our last giggle together about 10 days before she died. I spent the last 2 weeks of her life with her at Brookfield and was with her when she died. It was a very precious time for me, a privilege, and I will treasure it forever. Anyway, one afternoon I went into her room to see how she was. I leant over her bed. She woke up. “I think I’ve gone,” she croaked. “I hope not Momma, because I’m here too.” “Oh god” she replied “Can’t someone give me a kick up the backside out of here.” She was soon to have her wish and I can report that she seemed very much at peace with herself in her last weeks and very loving and grateful to those around her. But to talk a little of happier times… Thelma was the best friend anyone could have and she valued her friends enormously. One of her great interpersonal skills was to have friends across all age groups – it is one of the reasons why so many of her friends are here today - to say goodbye to an 89 year old woman. But there were only 3 - now 2 of us - who knew her as a mother. In some respects being her eldest son proved to be a dubious honour - a subject I will not dwell on today. But for all our conflicts she was my adored and darling Momma, a woman of boundless qualities and by and large, a hugely positive influence on me. As my late brother Timmy and I agreed one Sunday afternoon long ago – as we observed our mother’s attentiveness to her friends during one of the endless garden parties at Bompas Road, it might have been a better deal to have been her friend rather than a son. The Bompas Road garden parties have taken on legendary proportions. She continued the tradition at Brookfield although on a somewhat reduced scale. She went to extraordinary lengths, providing wonderful meals and hospitality for countless friends and relatives. Needless to say we, her close family, were always dragooned into assisting on these occasions and heaven help you if did not do what she wanted, exactly as she insisted. Thelma was a perfectionist in all things and learning the complex protocol of what went in which pot or dish was something I never mastered. But hey, in a potter’s home there were lots to choose from! I am told that I am very like her. I take it as a compliment – most times. Thelma and I had a lot in common and we shared many interests. I doubt very much whether my lifelong obsession with rare and beautiful things would have developed were it not for the influence of her creativity and a love of beauty - and I might add, the influence of her gregarious nature. Unfortunately my talents - such as they are - lie only in aesthetic appreciation and connoisseurship rather than in the creation of beautiful things as she did. Looking back I can see that motherhood, homebuilding and supporting my dad as he grew his business was never going to be enough for her. Pottery was the making of Thelma and her discovery of her craft transformed her from a frustrated artist and homemaker into a hard working and dedicated artist. I went from being “…you’re Neil’s boy…” to “…so you’re Thelma’s eldest son?” as her reputation grew as one of South Africa’s finest potters. We’ll will all remember her for her beautiful pots and unique personality. She touched many lives. And I am hugely proud of her. I would like to take this opportunity to thank all those who helped care for Thelma during her decline. First and foremost to Bobby and Gail, who took much of the strain of Thelma’s daily needs, especially when Diane and I moved to Brussels over 3 years ago. Great thanks and appreciation must also go to the heroic efforts of her carers, "Team Thelma – sponsored by Movicol”, Theo, Emma, Julie and Letti who are with here us today. They did a difficult and demanding job with the utmost kindness, care and love and we as a family are deeply grateful to them. A huge thank-you must also go to the rest of the family, and most especially her other daughter’s-in-law, Jill, Merle, and Diane for helping to care for her and being there for her on countless occasions over the decades. Thelma had an unusually close relationship with all of them and was indeed fortunate to have sons whose choice of partners was so impeccable. I guess she set very high standards. Dr Stephen Graham of Parliament Hill Surgery was her GP – and Neil’s too. He looked after these 2 very demanding souls with remarkable, unyielding patience and good humour. He developed a close relationship with Thelma and he - like many others - endured her skilled interrogations into his personal & family life. Denise O’Malley and more recently Helen Longhurst of the Palliative Care Team at the Royal Free Hospital came into the picture about 9 months ago and they too played a significant part in looking after her and advising the family. The district nurses from Gospel Oak visited her every day in her last weeks and were with us at her bedside when she died. They too attended to her needs with professionalism and sensitivity. Who says the NHS doesn’t do a good job! I would also like to thank Thelma’s neighbours at Brookfield, some of whom, like Jerry, Helen, Julius and Raphael Judah, Ilana Perleman, Sophie Baker and Marsha Sanders became close and intimate friends. They kept an eye out for her, visited her regularly and were extremely tolerant of her sometimes, how shall I put it,… idiosyncratic ways. For the rest of today let us focus our memories of my mother not as she was at the end but as she was at the height of her powers, a force of nature - the great she elephant of our clan. Thelma’s passing leaves a great gaping hole at the heart of our family. She was the dominant and dominating figure in our lives. Our matriarch. Quite what we will do without her - only time will tell. AVE ATQUE VALE

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

Thelma on Hampstead Heath

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Sam Marcuson
15 years ago

I first met Thel when I was staying with the Hersch/Schnitke family in Mons Road, Johannesburg. Thel used to wheel Alan over to regale her friend, Miriam Schnitke and anyone else that was around, with her and Neil's difficulties in persuading Alan to eat his food. The strategies she devised made me realise that here was a creative and unusual being. We met again socially after I had produced four children and this time we began a friendship that deepened over the years. I appreciated her openness and willingness to listen to different points of view. She always had a curious mind and she was a persistent questioner. At the same time, Thelma had a style and a visual eye that was enviable. She had a way of expressing herself that was unique and induced awe in many of her friends. Nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of her whiplash comments. We did not call her "The Duchess" for nothing. She presided and we knew our place! My deepest appreciation of Thel and Neil's friendship was their willingness to provide a safe haven for me in 1960 when we were being raided by the police and I feared for my possible re-arrest. They were putting themselves at risk even though they did not share my political beliefs. Their generosity of spirit extended to hosting a dinner party for African friends which was not a usual occurrence in the Northern Suburbs particularly as it was still illegal to supply Liquor to Africans. However Thel was not into changing her way of running dinner parties and when she tinkled her little silver bell for the next course, it was I who felt somewhat uncomfortable. She carried the dinner off in her usual inimitable style. When we left for the UK at the beginning of 1962, the Marcusons gave us a tremendous Sunday lunch send off. Little did we know that they would ultimately join us and enrich our lives in London. There I could always rely on Thel's perspicacity and instincts to tell me about any romances that she observed in my family. She had a basic instinct for ferreting out what was going on in the lives of her friends. Finally I want to pay tribute to the pleasure that her pottery gave me. Our friendship dating as it did to pre pottery days saw the development of her skills. I managed to acquire examples from her early days to her final firings. She disliked seeing her early work on my shelves and wanted me to get rid of them. This I refused to do. They were important to me and I treasure all of her work. The memory of her will always glow. There were so many rich moments of laughter and fun as well as seeing each other through the difficult times. I miss and will continue to miss those moments.

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15 years ago

Sorry, Myrtle for spelling your name incorrectly

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15 years ago

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15 years ago

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