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Lewis, 46, was a first-year writing professor at Eastern Illinois University. In 1985 he received his bachelor's degree in English from EIU, and as an undergraduate he held the student government position of Minister of Propaganda under the Butler Administration. He went on to earn a master's degree in creative writing-fiction from Columbia University in Chicago and a master's of fine arts degree in creative writing-poetry from The University of Arkansas. He was also a contributing writer for Asian Cult Cinema. He wrote both fiction and poetry, for which he received numerous awards including two Academy of American Poets' Prizes, the Kenneth Patchen Award, and two Bread Loaf Writers' Conference Scholarships. In 199? he published a chapbook of poetry entitled Voices in the Field, and his first book of poetry, Forever Came Today, was published in 2004 and received widespread acclaim. Graham's creative talent extended well past writing and literature. He was a well known connoisseur and collector of music and film, with collections of both which knew no bounds. His music appreciation spanned all genres, cultures, and eras. One of his favorite pastimes was to share his vast collection with friends, family, or somebody he had just met. He also housed over 10,000 movies and could speak interestingly about every one of them. Everybody who shared his life is better educated because of him. He was also once known as El Mysterio, the Mexican wrestler / masked lead singer of the infamous punk rock band called The Hate Brothers, a local medley of musicians and song writers who wowed and horrified audiences throughout the eighties and nineties, not only in Charleston but in cities and towns from St. Louis to Chicago and Indianapolis to Kansas City. Graham Lewis was a friend of many and loved by all, the type of guy who always went out of his way to help anybody who needed anything. He is survived by his wife, Kathryn Morice, of Charleston and his mother, Roberta Lewis of O'Fallon, Illinois. Services were held at The Charleston First Christian Church on Saturday, October 25. **
Requiem
for My Brother
hirty years ago I first met Graham in typing class, and we were almost instantly best friends. We spent countless hours in my parents' basement, discussing, debating, and wrestling over the virtues of existentialism, art, music, the existence of God and the human spirit. We always
came back to the human spirit and friendship. Graham was not a
big fan of organized religion. But he was a big fan of the human
spirit and friendship. He loved everyone, or he loved that something inside each of us that he met; something he saw or felt in each of us. And he reveled in it. He celebrated it. Graham borrowed from us all, he shared various components of each of us in his writings, his poetry. I read his writings and I know who I am through his eyes: I’m ‘Jonesy’ in "Cahokia Indian Burial Grounds, 1979." I am honored and humbled to be a part of his art. I am honored and humbled to be a part of his life. Couldn’t Graham bring out the good things in each and every one? How many times did he make you smile? How many times did he make you laugh? Just belly-laugh? How many times did he make you think? How many times did he make you look at something differently? Too many times for me to ever fathom; too many times for me to count. With his quick and constant laugh, his sparkling eyes, his gritting teeth, his rapier wit, his ability to point out the absurdities in everyday life, and the follies of the human experience Graham had the ability to put anyone at ease. Hewas a friend to everyone he would meet Graham shaped the way I look at things: Ideas. Beliefs. Art. Music. Didn’t he do that for a lot of you? Like many of you, I will be stunted musically without him. He was always turning me on to to new bands — every time he visited, he would bring stacks of CD’s — something old or something new. Those bands on those discs would soon become my favorites, because he knew and loved good music. Graham is my inner critic: If I read somethin, change my opinion on an issue, look at a work of art, or listen to a new band, I always ask myself, “What Would Graham Think?” He will continue to shape my thoughts, form my ideas, my view of the world. What would Graham think? He thought a lot, and he thought a lot about all of you . . . As my mother, who loved him dearly, said upon hearing of his death,“Graham was a person of great depth, truly a person with a great soul” My mom is a Belleville Mom, just like Graham's. As Roberta, Graham's mother. will attest, Belleville Moms are always right . . . Graham had great depth and has a great soul. Roberta, your loss is so great I cannot comprehend. For the 30 years that I have known you both, I’m positive a mother cannot give more love than you gave Graham. No one could care more about anyone or anything. And Graham loved and cherished you. I know, he told me so. To Kit, his loving wife, companion, and soul-mate: I don’t know where to begin. Truly the planets and the cosmos aligned when you and Graham met. For a more perfect match of intellect, understanding, friendship, and love is hard to imagine. I honestly believe there was no better match for Graham. You were truly a blessing to Graham. You filled the voids that were missing in him. You made him a complete person. Graham loved and cherished you. I know, he told me so When I received the call on Tuesday, notifying me of my brother’s death, I fell to the floor sobbing. Mostly in disbelief, denial, and then despair . . . My youngest daughter Abbey (who Graham named Cricket), after finding out why Daddy was prostrate on the floor — went to the living room and brought me Graham’s book, Forever Came Today. She said: “Don’t worry Daddy, Graham will always live here.” She was and is right — Graham will always live HERE. I had the good fortune to spend our annual 5-day trip with Graham last month. It was perfect. The weather was beautiful. We listened to tunes on the deck, drank beer. We celebrated life, as always, and had a great time, such a great time. When we parted ways, Graham did what he always did: grabbed me in that great bear-hug of his and said: “I love you, brother-man." I love you, brother-man. And I'll see you on the other side. ** Glimpses
—Lucinda
Berry I had known Graham for almost 20 years. He was a student of mine at Eastern Illinois University a long time ago. It was a course in Literature and Psychology, and Graham was a student I liked to see in class. He was smart, really smart, and he said things I liked hearing about Freud and Dostoevsky, Jung and Eugene O'Neill. He would spin that Psych theory like a top. Sometimes his life as a student would get in the way of his studies. He was running with Joe Butler for student body president and vice-president, and they were running a pretty wild and unconventional campaign. Sometimes, Graham would come to class unprepared during the race, but he was always upfront about that. He'd come in and say, "Doc, I'm not going to do you any good today." Then, he would smile and shrug, and you knew that he would get it all together tomorrow or the next day. Years later, I met him again. He got a job teaching in my department, and he taught there for the rest of his life. We were both smokers when he first started teaching, and we would meet outside Coleman Hall in all kinds of weather to smoke a cigarette between classes. He was a good person to share a cigarette with. He was always upbeat, always smiling like he did in class long ago when he was a student. You would join him outside with some kind of crazy or sad story about a student's meltdown or failure, and he would smile and shrug, say something reassuring about the student. He was a good person to talk to. Graham was
also a good poet, and I want to post one of his poems here from
his book Forever Came Today. The sonnet is from a sequence
about a Coles County, Illinois, woman named Marjorie.
—John Guzlowski **
My oldest, admittedly hazy memory of Graham dates back to the early eighties, when he was still an undergraduate here at Eastern. That year the usually solemn pageant of Student Elections was enlivened by a wondrous epiphenomenon called the Silly Party. They campaigned on a platform of “Sex, Drugs, Rock ‘N Roll” (or something like that) with slogans insisting in effect that they couldn’t possibly be worse than the other clowns. Their candidate for President was Joe Butler, and Graham, no doubt in recognition of his superior verbal skills, had the impressive title of Minister of Propaganda. That always seemed to me a wonderful retro touch, harking back to the Sixties and the Black Panthers and the worst innings of the Cold War. The whole thing was a perfect piece of drollery and street theater, with a sort of British feel that duly honored the Party’s Monty Python roots. It all seemed to go whizzing over the heads of the “Greek” crowd. But the Silly Party had struck a chord, and actually won that election – probably dismaying Graham and Joe as much as their defeated rivals. They swept into office the following fall, and managed to keep the prank going in various ways till about mid-year. At that point the “serious” contenders for the pride and pelf of student office finally managed to gin up some kind of scandal, and relieved (in every sense) the Sillies of office. Legend holds that the last act of the guerilla government was to throw an epic party celebrating its own demise. But the Silly Party had brightened my day, and the pages of the DEN, continuously for about eight months, and I have missed them ever since. —John Kilgore **
What will always remain in our minds is the memory of a really likeable person so full of the joys of life that will always remain with us. Eastern Illinois University and the Charleston area has always been so positive for us, so I deeply feel his loss and sympathize with all his friends and colleagues there. —Tony
Williams
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