Roussel Sargent's 90th Birthday Celebration
Roussel Sargent's 90th Birthday Celebration
November 29, 2007
Mills College, Oakland
On November 29th, 70 people came to Mills College to celebrate the 90th birthday of St. Cuthbert's parishioner, Roussel Sargent PhD, retired Aurelia Henry Reinhardt Professor of English from Mills College. Much to Roussel's embarrassment, glowing tributes abounded - including a loving letter from her long time friend and fellow writer, Ursula LeGuin.
Dr. Roussel Sargent PhD
Roussel, Elaine, Paige and Margaret
Roussel & Fr. Tom Shultz OHC and Br. Rafael OHC
Mark and Chanthima Daniel
Mary Teixeila and Kevah Payne
Friends
Roussel Sargent and Paige Bearce-Beery
Tom Slocumb and Shivaun Van Straatum
Sharon Vaughn 
The Rev. Pamela Cranston and Roussel Sargent
A Tribute for Roussel Sargent
on her 90th Birthday
by The Rev. Pamela Cranston
by The Rev. Pamela Cranston
Just for the record, Roussel Sargent was born the only child of Sydney Beuzeville Byles Sargent and Winifred Muriel Strachan on November 24, 1917 at Acocks Green outside of Birmingham, Warwickshire County, England. Her father Sydney was an unenthusiastic banker and came from a long line of Sargents from Henley-on-Thames (of the Henley Regatta fame.) (For your information, among other things, she is a distant relative of the poet Coventry Patmore.) Roussel told me that her father had thick wavy black hair and noticeably bushy eyebrows, which she inherited in a slightly feminized form. From her father she also inherited a love of language and English Literature – and a drop or two of spirituality.
In the early 1890s, her father was sent off as a boy to attend a small private school in Somerset, and it was there, Roussel tells me, that he became the victim of the craze for levitation. She said, “The kids in his dormitory each put a finger under his body and they all breathed and concentrated—and up went Daddy in a highly satisfactory way. Then they heard the footsteps and knew a master was coming to check up on them. Concentration broken, there was a panic-stricken dash for their beds as my father crashed to the floor and broke his arm.” His arm was badly set by the school doctor but it proved to be a lucky accident because it later exempted him from fighting in World War One. If he had enlisted there is a good chance we would have had no Roussel!
I first met Roussel in 1998 when I came became the associate priest at St. Cuthbert’s Episcopal Church in Oakland. After a long hiatus from religion, Roussel had returned to the Episcopal Church about 1996 (home of her beloved Book of Common Prayer) through my friend Fr. Paul Strid. Since then, I have always known Roussel, despite her family’s love of spiritual heights, to have her feet planted squarely on the ground – unlike most Episcopalians who have both feet planted firmly on the fence. (And proud of it!) So I can categorically say that any rumors of Roussel levitating have been grossly exaggerated.
Roussel and I became good friends almost as soon as I met her and soon discovered we have many interests in common. In a way, you could say that Roussel represents the long lost Aunt I always wanted to have. Many of you I expect had Roussel as a consummate teacher and colleague. I was never so lucky, but what I can say about her is that she is a lovely poet, a great diarist, a wise and faithful Anglican, and a considerate and amazingly generous friend who is never boring.
Roussel is shy and modest by nature and though she would be the last to say it, Roussel’s real achievement is her extraordinary gift for friendship. If you need a cheerleader in your life, Roussel is the best encourager I know – so much so that I wonder if she’s ever had a secret desire to be a Raiderette! I could not do half of what I do without her support…
And what a collection of friends! If you look around the room you will begin to get a picture of who Roussel is by seeing this assorted group of fascinating, intelligent, deep and quirky people. For better or for worse, Roussel, we are your legacy.
You can tell a lot about a person by the people and things they like, and so I have decided to make a list of them for you in a poem I wrote called: When I’m An Old Woman (with apologies to its original author, Jenny Joseph.)
The Rev. Pamela Lee Cranston
© Mills College, 11/29/07
WHEN I’M AN OLD WOMAN
(For Roussel Sargent on her 90th Birthday)
November 24, 2007
When I’m an old woman, I shall forget
about wearing purple and garish hats
but spend all my money on charities and chocolate.
I shall lavish all my care on two fractious cats—
one fat, the other black with white whiskers
and four white spats. When I tire,
I shall sport a wooden cane
(most properly called a ‘stick’)
and use it to whack any car that dares
to cut across my path.
I shall collect English country calendars,
hoard ancient books by Traherne and Vaughn
and save copper pennies in a jar.
At all times and in all places, I will cherish words,
never miss Jeopardy and let the sound
of Tudor language lift my soul.
I shall cultivate brass band roses, drive
to Oregon to see the summer stars
and dabble my toes in a babbling brook.
I shall stroll across the Sussex Downs at sunset,
gaze at the orient wheat and dream of Greece,
then eat the bluest Stilton, drink the finest port
and lounge beneath yellow beech trees in the fall.
I shall pick the best seat at Evensong
and always pause to hear the bell-ringers ring the changes.
I shall buy Christmas crackers and sing silly songs
to make up for the gravity of my youth.
I shall stay up till two researching footnotes with the OED
then sleep in late and dawdle over coffee
and the crosswords and write witty letters
to William Safire full of questions about curious words
like “zounds!”, “boogie”, and “flabbergaster”.
I shall read the Times Literary Supplement
from cover to cover and tell my friends
never, under any circumstance, to vote Republican.
And when Death comes north of 100,
I shall treat him like an English butler,
who will open (with kid gloves) the door
to my bright Future, where I shall become
a living poem, a golden word,
everlasting in the poetry of Christ.
© 2007 Pamela Lee Cranston
In the early 1890s, her father was sent off as a boy to attend a small private school in Somerset, and it was there, Roussel tells me, that he became the victim of the craze for levitation. She said, “The kids in his dormitory each put a finger under his body and they all breathed and concentrated—and up went Daddy in a highly satisfactory way. Then they heard the footsteps and knew a master was coming to check up on them. Concentration broken, there was a panic-stricken dash for their beds as my father crashed to the floor and broke his arm.” His arm was badly set by the school doctor but it proved to be a lucky accident because it later exempted him from fighting in World War One. If he had enlisted there is a good chance we would have had no Roussel!
I first met Roussel in 1998 when I came became the associate priest at St. Cuthbert’s Episcopal Church in Oakland. After a long hiatus from religion, Roussel had returned to the Episcopal Church about 1996 (home of her beloved Book of Common Prayer) through my friend Fr. Paul Strid. Since then, I have always known Roussel, despite her family’s love of spiritual heights, to have her feet planted squarely on the ground – unlike most Episcopalians who have both feet planted firmly on the fence. (And proud of it!) So I can categorically say that any rumors of Roussel levitating have been grossly exaggerated.
Roussel and I became good friends almost as soon as I met her and soon discovered we have many interests in common. In a way, you could say that Roussel represents the long lost Aunt I always wanted to have. Many of you I expect had Roussel as a consummate teacher and colleague. I was never so lucky, but what I can say about her is that she is a lovely poet, a great diarist, a wise and faithful Anglican, and a considerate and amazingly generous friend who is never boring.
Roussel is shy and modest by nature and though she would be the last to say it, Roussel’s real achievement is her extraordinary gift for friendship. If you need a cheerleader in your life, Roussel is the best encourager I know – so much so that I wonder if she’s ever had a secret desire to be a Raiderette! I could not do half of what I do without her support…
And what a collection of friends! If you look around the room you will begin to get a picture of who Roussel is by seeing this assorted group of fascinating, intelligent, deep and quirky people. For better or for worse, Roussel, we are your legacy.
You can tell a lot about a person by the people and things they like, and so I have decided to make a list of them for you in a poem I wrote called: When I’m An Old Woman (with apologies to its original author, Jenny Joseph.)
The Rev. Pamela Lee Cranston
© Mills College, 11/29/07
WHEN I’M AN OLD WOMAN
(For Roussel Sargent on her 90th Birthday)
November 24, 2007
When I’m an old woman, I shall forget
about wearing purple and garish hats
but spend all my money on charities and chocolate.
I shall lavish all my care on two fractious cats—
one fat, the other black with white whiskers
and four white spats. When I tire,
I shall sport a wooden cane
(most properly called a ‘stick’)
and use it to whack any car that dares
to cut across my path.
I shall collect English country calendars,
hoard ancient books by Traherne and Vaughn
and save copper pennies in a jar.
At all times and in all places, I will cherish words,
never miss Jeopardy and let the sound
of Tudor language lift my soul.
I shall cultivate brass band roses, drive
to Oregon to see the summer stars
and dabble my toes in a babbling brook.
I shall stroll across the Sussex Downs at sunset,
gaze at the orient wheat and dream of Greece,
then eat the bluest Stilton, drink the finest port
and lounge beneath yellow beech trees in the fall.
I shall pick the best seat at Evensong
and always pause to hear the bell-ringers ring the changes.
I shall buy Christmas crackers and sing silly songs
to make up for the gravity of my youth.
I shall stay up till two researching footnotes with the OED
then sleep in late and dawdle over coffee
and the crosswords and write witty letters
to William Safire full of questions about curious words
like “zounds!”, “boogie”, and “flabbergaster”.
I shall read the Times Literary Supplement
from cover to cover and tell my friends
never, under any circumstance, to vote Republican.
And when Death comes north of 100,
I shall treat him like an English butler,
who will open (with kid gloves) the door
to my bright Future, where I shall become
a living poem, a golden word,
everlasting in the poetry of Christ.
© 2007 Pamela Lee Cranston
posted by St. Cuthberts Oakland @ 10:09 PM
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