I've been using this blog mostly to write about my recent listening. A few times I've written thoughts on a few people who had died, but nobody I knew personally. This will be an exception.
Tracey D. Turner, actor. I wasn't especially close to Tracey, but I have always considered her to be a friend. I can't tell you how we might have met, I think we knew each other "from around."
I will specifically cite when we worked together though, back in my Water Shed 5tet days. It was a show at Luciano's, which probably places the date somewhere in the 1993-1996 range. I wanted to do some sort of special program for Halloween, so I asked Tracey if she would read a few short stories while we improvised music behind her. (In the interest of accuracy, I think I asked her, but it could have been someone else in the band.)
I looked over several short stories, and length was important. I remember we did at least one JG Ballard story, "The Smile." It's a horror story of sorts, maybe unlikely, but she thought it was creepy and was enthusiastic to recite it.
She was great. Tracey had, for a woman, a rich and deep voice, a commanding presence. It was hard not to be in awe when around her. The show went well.
The other thing I remember was that I was terribly sick with the flu, and basically wasn't strong enough to stand while playing. I drank mint tea all night and tried to keep myself together. I shouldn't have been there, but then I wouldn't have that memory if I had cancelled.
In the years since, I'd run into her randomly now and then, irregularly, and it was always friendly. I'm certain I've seen her on stage, but I can't recall specifically in what production. Tracey had charisma, I couldn't help but be impressed by her any time I met her. The most recent time I ran into her was in the lobby of Target, with her daughter. She introduced me in glowing terms, and I probably shrugged it off. Not out of disrespect, to me she was the impressive artist.
My last discussion with her was online about a year and a half ago. I guess I noticed her name in Facebook Messenger and said hello. She was preparing to return to the stage after having been away for over a year due to the lockdown. She had some trepidations of returning. I told her unironically that she was my hero, and to go out and slay.
Three days ago I saw a notice on Facebook of a GoFundMe page created in Tracey's honor, that she had very little time left to live. What? I wrote to the manager and asked what we going on. She directed me to the hospice where Tracey was staying, on Phillips Avenue two doors down from the first apartment I shared with my wife.
I went to see her yesterday. It was tough. I didn't recognize her, she was so reduced in size (Tracey was always rather Amazonian), her signature locks gone, unable to speak or do much but move her hand a bit. I really don't know if she recognized me. I asked to sit with her, even though she was unable to respond. I talked about living down the block, how we lived in that apartment when my daughter was born. I stayed for a while, speaking occasionally, and said that I'd check if she needed anything for when I returned in the future.
I really don't want this to seem to be about me. I would have regretted not going, I hope it meant something to her to have a friendly visitor.
I got word on during my gig tonight that Tracey had died. It was clear she didn't have long, and if she was suffering then I'm grateful it's over.
I've been pretty lucky to not have that many people I've known die. My parents and sisters are all still with us. But I am reaching the age (60 on April 14) that I'm going to see it happen more and more.
But Tracey...damn. She couldn't have been that much younger than me. I know of nobody who has had anything bad to say about her: professional, talented, dedicated, a good mother, even queen and a force of nature.
Life just isn't fair. It's the pessimist in me that says, Henry Kissinger is still alive. So are Donald Trump, Mitch McConnell, Vladimir Putin, Rupert Murdoch, Elon Musk. I'm not saying I wish death on them, I just think we'd be better off without them. I know life is random and unfair, but we need more Tracey Turners, people who are positive, talented, do good by others. You left us too soon Tracey, through no fault of your own. I miss you.
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