Sometimes people come along who become so much a part of our lives it becomes hard to imagine the community without them. These people touch us in so many ways and enrich our lives to the point some element of who we are is defined by our connection with them. Carole Borges was such a person and for many of us the connections are wide and varied. She died two days ago after having been diagnosed with cancer. She would have been 75 years old later this year.
I first met her as a part of a writing group with the Knoxville Writer’s Guild. A short fiction group, we read and critiqued each other’s work, a process that can lead to hurt feelings and resentments. Carole’s work revealed a skilled writer, but while her critiques revealed a keen eye they were always delivered with a tender heart. Never one to hurt another’s feelings, she always left me and others in the group with encouragement rather than disparagement.
I didn’t realize the many facets to Carole’s life until I moved downtown where our intersections became more frequent and layered. She continued writing poetry, for which she was best known, but it was when she wrote a fine memoir, “Dreamseeker’s Daughter,” that she made, perhaps, her biggest splash. I wrote about it in more detail several years ago, but suffice to say here, that it covered the bulk of her childhood, which was spent on a boat with her family floating down the Mississippi until they literally sank in the Gulf of Mexico.
The years following the great boat adventure didn’t find Carole settling into a more stable life. In fact, I’m not sure she was ever content with what most of us would consider a normal routine. She left the boat at age seventeen with her boyfriend, eventually landing in a commune up north building cement boats on a mountainside. Married three times, she recounted how she lived with a man in Mexico who gave her a magical machete, telling her she should travel to Guatemala where she became known as the “Lady of the Machete.”
In Knoxville, many years later, you might find her at a protest for one of many left-leaning causes she supported. You might find her acting whimsically with various friends including Kelle Jolly, like the time she played the massive cardboard guitar during one of Kelle’s performances on Market Square. I appreciated her support when we held a rally to attempt to convince St. John’s Episcopal Church to save two buildings they wanted to demolish. We lost that battle, but it never deterred Carole from taking up the next cause.
I will miss her laughter and optimism. I’ll miss her tenacity and idealism. Her life was rich and full and ours will be a little less so in her absence. I know I’m a better writer and person as a result of having known Carole Borges and I suspect many of you reading this could recount how she made you better. She elevated everyone around her and made her adopted city a better place. Farewell, my friend.