Tom Walker

I went to visit Tom at the hospice on September 7, two weeks before he died. I hadn't seen him in years, but we reconnected instantly and went on to have a lovely conversation. We reminisced about the old times, commiserated about neoliberalism and considered how art as activism may play an important role in keeping us sane, creating social consciousness, propelling us to organize and fight back, and giving us hope. Then he showed me one of his beautiful pop-up books on Marxism – such a "Tom" creation and a good example of what we'd been discussing.

I met Tom in late 1974, when I came to Vancouver as a political exile from Chile. He was part of the Chile Solidarity Committee (CSC), a group of leftists poised to support the Resistance Movement to the Pinochet dictatorship. My fondest memories of those days are of the peñas that we, the Movement of the Revolutionary Left (MIR), and the CSC held monthly at the Russian or Ukrainian Halls in Strathcona. The main purpose of the peñas was to raise money for the Resistance, but in fact they were much more than that; a time and space to gather, break bread together (or empanadas, rather), drink Hungarian red wine (we boycotted Chilean wine), listen to music (or in my case, play music), sing along, get updates about the situation in Chile and for us, the exiles, feel the love and support of our Canadian comrades.

My memory also takes me back to the sessions the MIR and the CSC held every few weeks to go over documents coming out of Chile and also to review the classics. In our first couple of meetings I remember feeling intimidated by Tom's deep knowledge of Marxism and sharp analytical tools. Is he trying to show off? I asked myself. No, he wasn't. The gentleness and unassuming way in which he presented his views showed me that instead of fretting and feeling inadequate, all I needed to do was listen and learn. Which I did.

I know that I speak for all members of the MIR when expressing infinite gratitude to revolutionary internationalists like Tom Walker, Bob Everton and Daryl Adams, whose spirits linger in our hearts and minds; and Linda Forsythe, Scott Parker and Denis Brown, who continue to protest and propose, resist and create in the midst of extreme capitalism and genocide.

¡Compañero Tom Walker, presente, ahora y siempre!

I met Tom on a radical listserv called LBO-Talk. LBO was an acronym for 'Left Business Observer,' a newsletter put out by Doug Henwood of NYC. The listserv had a bevy of fascinating characters but fell into disuse. Around 2003 I started what used to be called a 'blog' called 'MaxSpeak, You Listen!' that gained a bit of notoriety. It was mostly on politics and economics.

I invited Tom to join me as a blogger-author, and he helped to elevate the site, writing as "The Sandwichman." The name reflected his attraction to the idea of men who used to wear 'sandwich signs,' sometimes for low-paying jobs, sometimes to bring a message to the masses, such as 'The End is Near.' He may have worn such a sign, though with other messages.

Blogs fell into disuse after some years. The most popular ones went commercial or their authors got high-profile jobs in journalism. Tom had his own blog as well that he called 'Ecological Headstand.' Samples of both can be found via the 'Wayback Machine,' an archive of huge pieces of the Web. I had to stop blogging when I went into the Federal government in 2009, but I set up a second blog for Tom and a few others, entitled 'Econospeak.' It is still up and his erudite posts can still be read there, along with his interchanges with commenters.

Here's a link that includes one of his posts (scroll down) on my blog. https://web.archive.org/web/20040612154103/http://www.maxspeak.org/mt/index.html

We also corresponded a bit about political theory. I didn't have much contact with him for about the past fifteen years. I did manage to say goodbye not long before he passed, for which I am grateful. We talked about politics, which I thought would be the best subject to ventilate in his situation.

We only met in person once, seeing as how we lived on separate coasts. I had a stopover in Vancouver on a trip to Japan and we had lunch in the airport. About 25 years ago.

We never lost contact altogether. Tom had a strong influence on my political outlook so of course I will miss his brilliant commentary. He provided a great model of how to live according to the principles some of us pretended to have in the 60s, not a model that was easy for me to follow. He was very serious in his own way but not overbearing about it, with a great sense of humor. I'll always wish we could have hung out.

I knew Tom in a thankful variety of ways and levels. I knew him as an enthusiastic swimmer; dedicated and guarded cook; East End Food Co-op employee/supervisor; ardent member of the barely known, now, Workless Civic Party; creative neo-Marxist open to generations of post-Marx intellectuals; dedicated father, lover; local and regional cyclist; steadfast pop-up cartoonist; gracious father/grandfather; studious head tenant in one of the grand old houses in east end Vancouver; willing shoverler of snow/ raker of Autumn leaves/ summer grass-cutter; front veranda barbecue cook; eloquent commentator on current events; post-dinner connoisseur of shots of whiskey/kitchen & fridge guardian; proud father of scally-wag ruffians; and to the end, a likely anonymous person of deep faith who smiled his way into your head via the heart who would not be surprised on meeting the Maker & Sustainer of all life, and death, to be eager to be embraced by such words as: ."well done good man, you need not return to get it right!"

For all that has been Tom: thank you; for all that shall be, and for you now into the great Mystery, is: ... yes!

Affectionately,

Barry Morris

Some of my favourite memories of my Dad are of him taking my sister Jessica and I bike riding from Hastings Sunrise down to Stanley Park via Commissioner Street, along the docks and industrial southern shore of Burrard inlet, which was accessible to the public in the ‘70s/‘80s. He taught us to ride perpendicular to the train tracks when crossing them, and how to look back over our shoulders to see if any cars were coming up behind us.

He was open to the absurd: In the late ‘70s he lived in a tree stump on Burnaby Mountain for a time. We would visit him there and have sleepovers, sometimes taking refuge at SFU geography student union if it was raining hard. He wasn’t afraid to be a fool. He took up juggling and clowned around. Sometimes seriously!

I played soccer at Britannia as a kid in the early ‘80s, and after games we’d often go to Joe’s for ice cream, plus pool or pinball. My Dad had lots of friends on the Drive, where he lived for many years. He worked at La Quena Coffeehouse and the East Van Food Co-op. I don’t know all the people he knew, but I know that talking to people on his walks and bike rides in East Van meant the world to him.

He had an indulgent streak: In the ‘80s my Dad hosted a hot fudge sundae party at his house, with a big pot full of chocolate sauce and many different toppings. In his later years he became obsessed with making his own dulce de leche by heating an unopened can of sweetened, condensed milk. This confection would then be featured in blondies and other desserts he would bring to family gatherings. He was a great cook and particularly loved barbecuing for small gatherings on the front porch, or cooking Thai recipes with my brother Reuben.

He got back into swimming at Templeton pool in the last few years. He would swim, sauna, and chat with friends, which boosted his energy.

My Dad’s thinking had a profound effect on my life. I loved talking with him (mostly listening… he had a lot to say) and his feedback was helpful and honest when I struggled with relationships or my direction in life. Once he told me a story about an anthropologist observing a woman who made cakes and brought them to the local market, not making a profit, but interested only with the ability to make enough to break even and return to the market with it’s social interactions the next week. (This example of “subsistence economy” probably stems from the work of anthropologist Sol Tax - but I didn’t know the context at the time) That story gave me the insight that one’s business need not be profitable to be a success: perhaps one could find something they loved enough and that contributed to society enough, and to stay solvent enough to keep coming back. That really encouraged me to do my own thing with the Makemobile.

I share with my Dad a love of making things by hand. He was a maker of pop-up books and collage art. We co-hosted four pop-up card making workshops at my field house and at the Gastown pedestrian zone. He combined his art work with his socio-political passions and made some pretty niche pop-up books about working time and economics. In his final year he made a small production run of his book, called 'Marx’s Fetters' and mailed or hand-delivered it to friends and colleagues.

Tom Walker was a passionate advocate of shorter working time. I happened to connect him with the budding Work Less Party in the early noughties, and it was great to see my Dad joining in their political theatre. My favourite was “Leisurely Yours Day”, when were set up living room furniture on Burrard Street midday downtown on a weekday and hung out and talked to people passing by. He was also very impressed by the work of David Diamond of Headlines Theatre and Theatre for Living, as well as by the SFU Centre for Dialogue.

Dad was a lifelong learner and educator. He revelled in discussions of world events and he often had a deeper level of understanding to share from his love of reading on many topics. He was proud to have been a lecturer at SFU in the Labour Studies program.
He was unconventional, and it seemed he couldn’t help but be rebellious. He was a second-born kid - and as one myself, I know this is one circumstance where the seeds of resistance are planted.

Tom had a lot to share, and he worked hard to share it. He cared about the struggles we all face, finding our own vocations and where we fit within the world and society (deeply fragmented as it it by colonialism and capitalism).

I’m grateful to have had him as my Dad. I’ll miss his hugs, his jokes and his dinners. I’m also relieved he’s no longer suffering. I think he’d want people to engage with his art and read his writing. I think he would want people to have more time to sing and play, make art and care for each other and less time in pointless toil.

I’ll host pop-up & collage making in his honour on the last Sundays of the month till the end of the year: October 25, November 29, December 27. Check www.makemobile.ca/events for details.