JOHN BEAR CURTIS
Some of us knew him as John Curtis, Little John, Bear, or Manbear. A man larger than life at 6’7” would of course have to have more than one name. This man we knew by different names touched us all; it’s why we are here today (Bear's celebration took place in Vancouver on January 6th), though there are many more people that he touched as actor, musician, artist, mentor, storyteller and companion on so many levels it would be hard to discern them all.
Bear was a man of possessions, and laid claim to us, as we all have to him by being here, by calling him friend and brother, mentor and companion. Friends mattered a great deal to him and he was comfortable in any size group. Self-possessed with a taste for things larger than life, Manbear enjoyed hearing or playing a joke, jamming with friends, or being in his wonderful enchanted garden. Anyone who has ever been to Bear and Louise’s knows of the great museum it is; every surface is covered with ornaments, every wall with pictures, drums or collages of his making. Nothing is placed slapdash but laid out in a great labyrinth of colour, design and significance.
Never a lover of the capricious Mickey Mouse, Bear instead backed the temperamental Donald Duck. Some would say the duck was similar to the great John Curtis himself with both full of comic moments and an incredible temper. But his interests didn’t just stop at the cartoon characters. You might have been lucky enough to see the mountie on a horse with Prince Charles’ face, designed by Bear.
His collections went deeper to dragons, Beatlemania, numerous albums, exquisite creations in glass and his large repository of bones and skeletons; an homage to the animals with which we share the world. True to his Cherokee heritage, his role as pipe carrier and firekeeper, and as one who completed the four-year sundance, Bear honoured his ancestral roots, taking great pride and solemnity in walking the walk in the best way he could.
When I kept having visions of Native images, I asked Bear if it was possible to explore this and me just a white girl. He never once scoffed or condescended but took me to healing circles, dances and sweats. He very often knew what gift to give people. Whether his great visionary talent manifested in buckskin, feather, bone, wood or stone, Manbear honoured all these ways and brought visions and worlds to show the rest of us.
He had a gruff and stoic exterior at times, one where he rarely complained of his aches or pains, that caused him to snap grumpishly. Yet he could at the same time show compassion and had a great legacy of giving. Not a wealthy man in the ways of the material world, Bear was richer in so many ways by caring, his interest in life, his love of beauty and the depth of the enduring friendships he held. He loved to play music and chat with people, which sometimes was more them chatting and him listening.
Like his namesake, he loved his den, and like most Bears he didn’t seem cuddly on the outside. But many here remember a big bearhug or smooch from him. His great love was for his son Jesse and wife Louise. He hated to show that soft side in front of other people. Bear would get mad at Louise when she sometimes became too cutesy or revealed some little tradition that just the two of them share. Why’d he get mad? Because he wanted to maintain that grumpy bear image and yet, we knew there was a loving man in there.
All that Bear did, the many interests and events in which he interacted were larger than life, just as he was. All that he did was bear sized, and he remains in our hearts this way. By sharing our stories of Bear we keep him alive, with memories and love, for in the end, that’s all that any of us are.
Journey well, Bear.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
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