Laurel Lambert (1969-2026)

From Laurel Lambert's feature, March 19, 2019

This tribute is in fragments, but that's appropriate. Even when writing about her life, Laurel wrote in brief fragments, desperate to get all meaning and feeling out in brief lines.  

When I wrote my initial post about Laurel Lambert's passing, I mentioned she was a Stone Soup regular. That wasn't exactly the truth. She was more of an Out of The Blue regular, spending a good amount of time in the gallery, sometimes helping to clean for late Gallery owner Tom Tipton, often staying for Stone Soup Poetry, Tim Gager's Dire literary series and Deb Priestly's Saturday night Open Bark. She was a regular at what seems now to have been a lost golden age in the local poetry scene.

I appreciated Laurel's faithfulness at Stone Soup Poetry from Prospect Street Cambridge, to Central Square Cambridge, to St. Paul's Cathedral in Boston, eventually surpassing Walter Howard's attendance record until the reading moved to Boston's too-good-to-offer-feasible-parking Seaport area. 

Laurel at the Open Bark, presumably winter 2009 or 2010

In the days when Sophia Marshall was funding the Jack Powers Stone Soup Savor Poetry Prize, Laurel was chosen by Marshall as its first ever recipient. I was hesitant because I wasn't sure how Laurel would take the spotlight, but she did very well and was thrilled to be up there. 

"I went to alternative high schools. Alternative schools are for kids with problems. I went to three different ones. I dropped out three times and got my GED at nineteen."

--From Rosemary's Garden: the autobiography of Laurel Lee Lambert.

Laurel had a rough journey on her way to Boston's open mic scene. With any luck, there will be copies of her one book of poetry and one book of autobiographical prose at her memorial. This work deserves to be shared. 

Laurel could be a handful at times. She was equally exhausting and tireless, always writing in whatever notepads she had with her, even when her cataracts rendered her unable to see what she was writing. She gave me a bunch of her pads to transcript. So many undecipherable words, but there are some I will try to rescue. 

 
She also left me with various pieces of her art. She wanted me to used it for Oddball Magazine, but it didn't feel right given that she lost computer access with the Out of The Blue Art Gallery moving. I always hoped that that would change. At least I published her in Stone's Throw, which was online but printable.

 Laurel was also an activist who showed up alongside James Van Looy's Saturday vigils at the Boston Common. She was a Boston Common regular for a while, asking me to buy cigarettes whenever we came across each other.

Her breathing problems were tough to witness. She tried quitting several times, but it was hard when it appeared that smoking was the only way to keep her breathing. If you've seen anyone who's smoked for a while, you know what I mean. In my own way, I thought I was helping her a little. 

Laurel on the Common

The picture above is from last time we met face to face back in June, 2024. I tired to hook her up to Stone Soup's remote readings by telephone the same way I did with Carole Weston, but that didn't work out as well.

I'm happy to see so many people who went to Stone Soup remember her poems. 

Throughout our time together, Laurel was still writing, still creating, still wanting to see Neil Young and Crazyhorse. She helped discover poems from Jack Powers after his death. She cried the loudest when Bill Barnum's passing was announced.

Whenever we saw each other on the Red Line train, Laurel remembered my partner's name, always asked about her, remembered my partner had a daughter and asked about her too. 

My girlfriend met Laurel as well. She was at Stone Soup with her and other poets on New Year's Eve with C.C. Ashagra performing. She remembered Laurel Lambert.

And no one who met Laurel forgot her either.