Helen Russell: 1909 – 2011
On January 10, 2011, Helen Shanstrom Russell, member of Haiku Northwest and founder of the Vashon Island haiku group, asked that her hospital room furniture be arranged to her liking. She complimented the nurse on the bed’s comfort, and then asked the nurse to bring paper and pen. Helen dictated her last haiku, her jisei, and passed away in her sleep. This haiku was her last gift to us:
first night in new digs
We remember Helen with appreciation as we would any person who lives well, enjoying life for 101 years—or who begins writing haiku at 87 years old. But what we remember most about Helen is that she insisted we join her in her haiku journey. This journey entailed writing haiku, but also discussing the craft and art of our own haiku. She offered comments, and greatly appreciated hearing insights into her own writing. Helen possessed an abiding curiosity for words, culture, language, and present and past conventions in haiku.
Born in Seattle in 1909, Helen was all Northwest. This perspective shows in her haiku images, word choice, and idiomatic expressions. Her field of reference has a depth of time, reaching back to Seattle’s genteelly rough young days. She attended Seattle’s proud educational institutions (Broadway High School and University of Washington, class of 1930). She lived through the stresses of the Great Depression. She worked for Northwest industrial notables—Daily Journal of Commerce, Simpson Logging Company, and Boeing. Helen married James M. Russell in 1936, and they had two sons, Mac and Alan, and were blessed with a daughter-in-law (Judy), grandchildren, and great grandchildren.
Helen’s hobbies included gardening, writing short stories, travel (often with a granddaughter), bonsai, and taking extension classes. She turned to haiku when tending her bonsai became too much as she gracefully aged. From her beach cabin on Vashon Island’s Paradise Cove, in 1998, Helen phoned a few islanders to insist that they write two haiku to share at her house each month, first Mondays at three o’clock. Today that group, now a dozen islanders, still meets. In honor of Helen, the Vashon group published a haiku anthology, Mondays at Three: Paradise Cove, in 2003.
When Helen moved to Issaquah, she joined Haiku Northwest, the second haiku group to claim her as friend and writing peer. While her sight and hearing diminished, her haiku world expanded with her membership in Haiku Northwest and the Haiku Society of America. She was fully engaged in their meetings, conferences, and social gatherings. Soon her haiku were published in journals such as Frogpond, The Heron’s Nest, and Modern Haiku. With Connie Hutchison leading as designer and editor, Helen’s haiku volume, Distant Sounds, was published in 2008 to celebrate her 99th birthday. In 2009, the Haiku Society of America gave Distant Sounds the Mildred Kanterman Memorial Award for Best Chapbook.
Publication of her haiku especially pleased Helen. Her most recent haiku appeared in Fifty-Seven Damn Good Haiku by a Bunch of Our Friends edited by Michael Dylan Welch and Alan Summers. Here is one of Helen’s haiku from the book.
a cloud across the sun
—Ann Spiers, Vashon Island, Washington
The following obituary for Helen was published in the Seattle Times on January 16, 2011:
Helen Margaret Shanstrom Russell
The following are comments from several of Helen’s haiku friends:
From Marilyn Sandall, Haiku Northwest:
She created mystery (you knew there was a story there):
From Shirley Ferris, Vashon Island Haiku Group:
From Michael Dylan Welch, Haiku Northwest:
And she was refreshingly independent. I remember during one haiku meeting while we were all discussing someone’s haiku. She silently rose to her feet, positioned her walker for herself, and then slowly shuffled fifteen feet away to close the meeting room door, and then shuffled back. She was perfectly fine doing that for herself rather than asking someone else to do it. That simple act crystallized my perception of Helen—she wasn’t going to let her advanced age make her a burden on anyone, and she was perfectly capable of helping herself.
Here are four of Helen’s haiku, among many worth remembering, poems she selected herself (among others) to include on the Haiku Northwest website:
The last thing she said to me, during a phone call shortly before she died, was to tell the haiku group that she loved us all.
From Dejah Léger, Haiku Northwest:
From Connie Hutchison, Haiku Northwest:
To celebrate Helen’s 99th birthday in 2008, Ann Spiers of Vashon and Ruth Yarrow and Connie Hutchison of Haiku Northwest collaborated as editors to produce a book of Helen’s haiku, Distant Sounds. Helen was actually the fourth editor; she was very clear about her preferences and she was involved in every aspect of the process, from the color of the papers to which versions of which poems would be included. The most difficult step was agreeing on the sequence of poems. After seven drafts, we heartily agreed on the final version.
I remember Helen with joy and great appreciation. Her haiku were unrelentingly honest.
There was a story behind every haiku, and our monthly meetings were enriched by them.
From Ruth Yarrow, Haiku Northwest:
From Barbara Chasan, Vashon Island Haiku Group:
See also "Helen Russell's Determination."
Congratulations to Helen Russell on her 100th birthday, celebrated on November 22, 2009 (her birthday is actually November 23). To see more photos of Helen's 100th birthday party, click here. To see an Issaquah Press article about Helen and her 100th birthday, click here. Helen founded the Mondays at Three poetry group on Vashon Island that continues to discuss and share haiku every week. The group also sponsors the "Hiway Haiku" signs that appear next to the ferry dock on the north end of the island, where they get a great deal of visibility. Below is a special Hiway Haiku sign prepared to celebrate Helen's birthday. There are four signs altogether, one for each line of the haiku, and then a fourth sign, pictured below, congratulating Helen on her milestone birthday. The caligraphy is by Kaj Wyn Berry. Photo by Ann Spiers. Here's the poem: