The Least Detail of the Familiar

Reflection given by Nelson Goforth at Tom's memorial service

Irony is lately a popular way of looking at the world, and deconstruction the art form — nothing is what it seems; nothing is simple, Irony is hip, it’s cool ­– it's about being detached, unaffected, uninvolved.

Tom Defore was anything but ironic. He cared deeply about almost everything: his music, his work, his photography, the kids in Zimbabwe —and you, all of you: his friends.  Me too.

Tom worked in film and video for twenty years, studied it, enjoyed the work. Film production is largely about problem solving, and Tom was good at it — inventive, creative and focused.

Faced with a problem to solve, Tom’s tendency was to leap up a do something about it. He carried this into his music as well, I know, I’ve heard your stories about instrument repairs. Solving problems, helping out, getting things done — it was a big part of all aspects of his life.

Myself, I think Tom had a drive to solve problems for everyone, to always do the right thing. But doing the right thing is difficult, and to always do the right thing is impossible. Tom was my friend, I’ve known him for twenty years, but I never really understood the sense of melancholy he always seemed to carry with him, always just a little sad. And I’ve wondered lately if that came from not being able to do all that he wanted to do, and he wanted to do so much.

But Tom did more than most. He had work he enjoyed, music he thrived on, and people he loved. He enjoyed finding new music, tasting new foods, and meeting new people.
Tom was no one thing; he was eclectic to the extreme. A computer geek that hated computers, a lover of people who would just as soon they went away and left him alone, spiritual but earthy, a solemn cut-up.  We used to kid Tom that he’d keep the minutes for the Luddite convention on his Palm Pilot.

Tom went out and tasted life in great gulps. He was active and involved and not the least bit ironic and his enthusiasm touched us all.

So let’s take a lesson from Tom and go from this place and taste something new — without irony: simply, openly. Listen to a piece of music you’ve never heard before, not just a new song but a new artist, not just a new artist but a whole new style that you’ve set aside. Read a book you’d never thought you’d like. Sit and watch the way the light changes as the sun plays across your floor. Not just today, but everyday, because there is always something, something remarkable that you’ve never really seen before, even in the least detail of the familiar.