Anyone still left reading my blog justly has surmised that something has gone terribly wrong of late. And it has. The unimaginable happened. My husband/soulmate of 50 years Kurt Ingham (a.k.a. Mr. Twister) passed away three years ago (along with my beloved brother Randall, my horse Indy and my dog Gia all within a short span around then as well.) Every second since feels as awful as the night he died. Not coping well, I have been lax herein. But here at least is what i scratched out on June 6, 2023 for Facebook social media:
"Kurt Ingham, my better half since shortly after we met in 1970, passed away peacefully in his sleep from the travails of advanced cancer. His wish to return home from the hospital to be with the dogs and me was at least granted: the photo below right shows him four days ago when he could still converse and smile.
The hospice staff was super, but this final downward spiral starting two weeks ago caught us all somewhat by complacent surprise, since he had attained such successful remissions with the treatments and surgeries for the last three years. I want to write about his amazing adventures as influential punk rock singer The Dreaded Mr. Twister, as a world class marksman (seeded #1 Senior in his division in California shortly before) who competed internationally, and as a public school educator battling to do right by the kids against vainglorious bureaucrats, and I want to answer all his many friends...BUT... I have miles to go before I sleep and think it's going to be a long, long while."
We taught together for many years in the dysfunctional Los Angeles Unified School District. I’ve lost count of the endless moments when ignorance, pettiness, incompetence, and downright stupidity came dangerously close to defeating my passion to help young people see the light. On those days, Kurt would stop by my classroom with his sardonic wit and quote one of his favorite films, The Outlaw Josey Wales. “Endeavor to persevere” Kurt would encourage me. And because of his wisdom and vision, I was able to go on.
Kurt was so different from me. Smarter. More talented. A world class marksman, lead singer of the punk band Chainsaw, pilot, photographer, lover of cars and dogs, and so many interests and memories it made me realize how little I had accomplished.
We had HILARIOUS arguments about politics and history. I almost choked over lunch one day when Kurt refused to call the nation’s catastrophic moment The Civil War. “Rafe,” he scolded me, “the event you mention was the War of Northern Aggression.”
We laughed often, and enjoyed the type of friendship that seems to have disappeared from our workplaces and family dinner tables. We could discuss and disagree with complete respect and love for one another. It’s rare, but so was Kurt.
Above all, Kurt was an invisible hero to hundreds of students who do not realize his enormous contribution to their lives. There are young people who currently walk the halls of outstanding universities and go on to earn large paychecks from admirable professions because of Kurt’s quiet work behind the scenes of what many countries have called “The Miracle of Room 56.”
So a little history lesson is in order for all the kids who posed for pictures when Kurt and his brilliant wife Heather made them look good. At every Shakespeare performance for decades, Kurt quietly helped when no one was looking. And his friends came and generously contributed funds to help deserving youngsters.
If you were a student in Room 56, please take a moment to reflect on the time you spent there. Did you ever receive a bottle of cold water on a hot day, or read brand new copies of literature that you were allowed to keep? Do you still own an expensive instrument you were given having received music lessons from top instructors? Did you ever walk the streets of Ashland, Oregon? Perhaps you spent time in South Dakota, New York, London, or Paris. Do you remember experiencing breathtaking scenery as you hiked through dozens of National Parks? Think of the times you took your seat on an airplane. And in reminiscing about such wonderful times, your dazzling smile lights up a room because of the orthodontia you were provided.
Kurt Ingham made such things possible. And in today’s world of branding and self-promotion, you probably never noticed or took the time to recognize him. And that is exactly why Kurt was and always will be my hero."
--Rafe Esquith

Below is the last fun thing we did together, attending the annual British Car Show in the San Fernando Valley where he was showcasing his classic Bentley in April, 2023, two months before he died. (photo by Carolyn Carradine.)(All other photos except his black and white 1971 rock performance pic,* his black and white 1970 4 x 5 large format [!] selfie, and his portrait at the shooting range are by me.) Kurt's other close friend Mitch Feingersch also wrote a poignant obituary for him, but that's for another blog. Given my emotional procrastination, that it took me three years to the day to even write this, don't hold your breath...









































