Dr. James P. McCurry, Galesburg Chapel
65, of 1014 N. Kellogg St., Galesburg, IL died at 3:00 AM Saturday, May 16, 2009 at the Rosewood Care Center in Galesburg.
He was born on October 3, 1943 in Hawthorne, CA to Arlie and Kathleen Bloomfield McCurry.
He is survived by his mother, Kathleen McCurry of Galesburg, a half brother, Mike McCurry and a half sister, Irene McCurry and cousins, Donald (and Jenean) Betz, Michelle (and Ron) Carrothers, and Michael (Kendra, Jacob and Justin) Betz.
He was a professor at Carl Sandburg College for 28 years, retiring in 2008. First teaching Developmental English, later he taught Freshman English, Poetry, Ethics and Philosophy.
He graduated from Galesburg High School in 1961 and Knox College, Summa Cum Laude, in 1965. He received a master’s degree from Colorado State University in 1974 and a doctorate from the University of Denver in 1985.
He served in the United States Air Force from 1967 to 1970.
He was a member of the International Dyslexia Association (formerly the Orton Dyslexia Association) and the National Developmentally Disadvantaged Organization.
He was the editor of the literary magazine, Farmer’s Market. His poetry had been published in Annetna Nepo, Muse Apprentice Guild and Rio. Other publications appeared in Alba, Big City Lit, Cyber Oasis, Drought, Eleven Bulls, Fish Drum, Identity Theory, Tryst, Niederngasse, Poets Against the War, Snow Monkey Press, Zacatecas Review and Zuzu’s Petals Quarterly. Earlier credits include Quarterly West, the Writer’s Forum Gerard Manley Hopkins Prize in 1999 and the Illinois Arts Council prize. He loved Jazz and collected Jazz albums, he was a voracious reader, and he was a talented painter.
Memorial services will be 11:00 AM Saturday, May 23, 2009 at Hinchliff-Pearson-West Galesburg Chapel with Rev. Dr. Tom Larsen officiating. Visitation will be one hour prior to the service at the Chapel. Memorials may be made to the American Cancer Society.
Jim,
Your gentle and generous ways and insightful conversations will be missed. The smaller world that moved around you will mourn this loss most deeply, while the world at large has lost a true literary talent who published far too little of his beautifully innovative works of genius.
I think about the first time I met you doing a reading in a coffee house and I smile, because I knew I was meeting a genuinly wonderful character. Little did I know how much you would influence me to defend what it is we do when we write innovatively, how you would inspire me to dare take such writerly risks, how much your words would resonate in my soul.
You are the epitome of selflessness.
Rest easy and well, my friend. Everything, in the end, will be alright.
With much love and respect,
Jane
To Your Family Jim,
We went thru grade school and high school and various church programs. I remember you as a very thoughtful person. We went our seperate ways but your memory is not forgotten.
Rich
This is the body of an email from my son-in-law, Andy Scott, a former student of Jim’s who now has his MA in English and is teaching Comp 1 (if only to this point part time) in Denver:
“Even though I knew he’d been sick, that still hit like a ton of bricks. I wish I could be there for the service.”
“In general, Jim had a pretty big effect on my success as a student and the formation of my classroom/educational philosophies. The class that you are referring to, if I’m remembering correctly, was called Critical Thinking and Reasoning. I still think that that class, as Jim taught it, should be a core requirement (maybe even the first class students take before any other), as it was that class that gave me the basic skills to read critically and respond to written texts of any kind, formal argument or ‘objective’ account, etc… Since that class isn’t required in community colleges or universities, those concepts have become a very large part of my composition class.”
“There are definitely a few other things I’d like to say about Jim as an educator. I think one of the greatest successes, at least for me, of Jim’s teaching was that he always made students accountable for their own learning. For example, he would often teach a philosophical concept and then give questions regarding that concept to groups to figure out on their own. The key component was that the groups would present their responses to the question to the class. If students didn’t take the directive seriously, they were held accountable for it by the other members of the class, who would poke holes in a poorly thought out answer. His teaching style motivated a lot of students to take course materials more seriously than they would have naturally.”
“Even more importantly, and I strive to do this myself, Jim allowed students who really wanted to, to feel they were becoming a part of an academic community. He did this in a few ways. One, he would share his successes and failures as a philosopher and as a poet with the class occasionally. Doing this, he demystified the academic world in many ways. I realized that even people who were established in their academic fields had to consistently work very hard for any kind of success. In many ways this also “brought him to our level,” and made his lessons that much more important. Our failures as students became obstacles rather than reflections of an inherent lack of ability, since even our teacher had problems writing sometimes. I don’t think this is something that just anyone can pull off.”
“Jim would also really discuss student interests with them in a very honest way. If he didn’t know much about a particular philosophy that a student was interested in, he would discuss what he knew about it and admit his lack of knowledge beyond that, but give students suggestions for where they might learn more on their own. I didn’t really appreciate this until later on when I realized that a lot of my profs, rather than being honest about what they did and didn’t know, would either fabricate things or be condescending about my interests in order to maintain their image of academic superiority.”
“What a loss.”
That was Andy’s email in its entirety.
Norm
Jim, you were one of the kindest, most generous and thoughtful men I’ve known. You didn’t flaunt your brilliant and curious mind, or your skill and talent in teaching and writing. Instead you encouraged and nurtured the creativity of others.
We enjoyed many wonderful times and delicious food together, as well as conversations about the meaning of life.
You were a loyal friend to all who knew you, and your years of teaching touched the lives of countless students.
Well done, good and faithful servant.
Sallee Wade
Jim was in my first poetry workshop at Colorado State University. He was perceptive, wise, funny, and generous with the other students who were trying to write creatively. We maintained a long-time friendship with Jim. We mourn his loss, especially his Buddhist sense of humor. He knew that he himself and the world we call “reality” is seen through the Veil of Maya. Every conservation with him left us feeling as though our grasp of the central issues of life. One time, Jim took me to see the Rimpoche at the Naropa Institute in Boulder. We climbed the long staircase to the meditation room. But before the event I went looking for Trungpa. In the corridor I saw an Asian man and asked him where Trungpa was. “In there,” he said, jerking his thumb behind him. I went into the office and in an instant realized that it must’ve been him. When I saw Jim, I said, “The Rimpoche played a trick on me.” Jim said, “No, he taught you a lesson in the great Emptiness.” Such was his insight.
Dear Kate,
We just found out yesterday of Jim’s passing. You have our deepest sympathy. We are so sorry for your loss.
Mick and Deb Dennis,
Charleston, SC
Personal note from Deb:
A devoted and serious scholar and teacher, Jim was my favorite instructor when I was a non-traditional student at CSC (can it really actually have been thirty years ago?) He was always available to answer questions, explore issues and encourage discussions with students and colleagues. I wrote my first poem in his poetry literature class, inspired by the works of James Wright that he had selected for some of the course work; and Jim encouraged me to continue writing. He recommended me to the admissions staff at Knox College where I enrolled and wrote poetry for his former teacher and long-time friend Professor Samuel Moon. Jim’s written accolades, which I still have and cherish, made all the difference to my confidence level as a beginning writer with an extremely deficient educational background. (My focus in recent years before I went back to school had been on caring for my children, home and family.) He encouraged me and saw potential that I was unable to discern and imagine. After graduation from our alma mater, Jim helped me get my first teaching job and later recommended me to the graduate program at Bradley University. He had a profound influence on me and many other students who were interested in writing and teaching as a most solid, extremely intelligent, prepared and well-read teacher. He prompted us to read and study widely, think deeply, formulate difficult questions and apply what we learned from the process. His class was always interesting and relevant and his poetry course added up to a solid educational experience that lasted a lifetime for me.
Did I ever thank him enough? or live up to his expectations? Probably not. But I did create award-winning work and earned high marks and even demonstrated the ability to understand the complicated work of Henry James in graduate school, and Jim was insightful enough to realize gratitude that emanated from the recipient of his influence and assistance because he was always there for me over the years. I wish I had spent more time with him. I admired him. He had talent and a phenomenal memory and a brilliant mind, and he knew how to use them to create his true brand of individual expression. He was one of a kind, almost too complicated to describe, his unique personality mainly due to his wide-ranging experience and thanks to the fierce determination, hard work, nurture, support and unconditional love of his biggest fan: his mother, Kate.
His last correspondence to me, which he most likely also sent to others, was an eloquent answer to queries about his condition in the form of a poem, complete with classical allusions, meaningful metaphor and realism. (An excerpt is included below.) In it he lets us know that he was painfully aware of his grave condition and in charge of and fully participating in his medical treatment program while choosing to continue, to bravely live, with a little attitude and acceptance of whatever life was going to give (or inflict), for whatever time held. His direct address to his “chums” at the end of the poem made me smile…and then cry and get angry anyway, because that is what we do when we are sad and know too much and are too far away, realizing once again that life can be full of incredible pain–unfair! not fair!–while it is still just too short, too fleeting, too precious, no matter who or what or where you are. Carpe diem was one of Jim’s oft repeated themes. And like James Wright, James McCurry did not waste his time nor his life.
…
After William Matthews
Surely it’s obvious by now: Writing’s no god\”
or if it is, the Maenads are agents thereof
and were, when they dismembered Orpheus.
To paraphrase Bill, death is
”flickering” in my gut
“like a pilot light”
Or did it always
only I couldn’t
see it, feel it?
And why get ahead of next week’s
referral to Thor, the Icelandic
oncologist: Fun
metered like morphine
with a Benedryl chaser
for the hives?
Maudlin, you say?
No, that’s
attitude for ya,
fickle as next year’s
banshee, chums.
–James McCurry
He has always been in my thought over the years and many a times I meant to reach out and let him know how he had influenced my life over some of the most critical years. The thought, however, always got lost in the shuffle of priorities. I was online trying to look up his email so I could send him a note of gratitude and in that process came across the news of his passing. My heart completely sank!!
Dr. McCurry was a man of unparallel wisdom and a caring heart. He will always be remembered….
Faisal