Tari

Tari Lennon died last month; these are some words I shared at her service.

I met her 30 years ago, in a class at Claremont School of Theology. She breezed in, wearing a red wool cape and a matching red fedora. She was serving as the sole minister at a small UCC church in Thousand Oaks. She had received her Masters in Divinity from Union Seminary in New York years earlier, studying with Reinhold Niebuhr and Paul Tillich. She was taking some additional coursework at Claremont to complete a doctorate. I was enthralled by her ability to speak and capture the imagination of her listeners. Ours was a class about the use of story in the Scriptures, and Tari told the story of Ruth and Naomi, in ways we had never heard before.

We were in that class together for a semester and when it ended she and I talked about working together. She invited me to Thousand Oaks to meet a few people. So I drove up for what I thought was an afternoon meeting, which turned into an evening potluck and a congregational meeting. By the end of the evening, the congregation was inviting me to be the second person on their ministerial staff. That was sort of the way things happened with Tari, a meeting turned into a celebration, which turned into a hootenanny! And a job.

When Tari found out how much I was paying for a studio apartment in Thousand Oaks, she insisted I come live in her five-bedroom house with her. I was hesitant and wanted to guard my privacy, but I could see I was going to run out of money at those rental rates. So I moved into 3709 Consuelo. During the five years I was there we had several other occupants; we had a foster child named Casey, who stole the car one night. Hope Badner lived with us for a while, which was a delight. We made a heck of a little family, eating popcorn with parmesan cheese and watching late night movies on TV.

Tari took a sabbatical and did some studying on the East Coast; I flew back east to drive with her home. We stopped in Akron to visit Tari’s parents, Tilford and Ethel. I had heard stories of Ethel and Til, so I wasn’t looking forward to meeting them. We survived, and we escaped to continue our trip west. Fortunately, late in life, Tari reconnected with her sister, Corinne, and I know it was a great comfort to her.

After her time in Thousand Oaks, she served the Congregational Church in Laguna.

I know she made some good friends in Laguna; some of them are here today.

I'm something of a quiet person; I don't make too many waves. Spending time with Tari was always a good antidote, she had a talent for rustling up excitement. There were times in Thousand Oaks when she would drive up to my office in the late afternoon and ask ‘you want to go to dinner?’ If I said okay we might be off to Los Angeles for Indian food and a little known film. Five hours later we’d finally get home, and that's how the adventure would go.

I was so happy when Tari and Norma decided to combine households. I could just tell that Norma was one of those people who in the whirlwind of excitement, could remember where she put the car keys. They were a good team together, loving and careful, and laughing often

I will miss Tari, her perceptive political questions, her laugh, her big warm embrace. Have a good rest Cynthia Anne, you deserve it.