By Paula Cochran
Tom Casimir
July 18, 1961 to Aug. 7, 2008
Tom Casimir was practically born with a pencil in his hand; before he could talk, he could draw. Yet the walls of his home are bare, because Tom wasn't that kind of artist. And the home he inhabited was not really dwelled in so much as it was graced by his presence, much the same way he graced the rest of the world.
The world was Tom's palette. With little more than a pencil, paper, some tools (and a dog), Tom could imagine it, sketch it and create it.
In Manhattan, for less than $5, he designed a sink from an old oak slab and copper pipes. In Texas, he sailed a yacht, not for the pleasure of the water, but to embrace the curved lines of the ship he had rebuilt for a friend. In Puerto Rico, he designed and built eco tourist tree houses -- cutting edge technology in a country where post and beam building was practically unknown, friends say.
When Bob Lack started his architecture firm in 1984, Tom was his first employee. "Artist Neil Anderson told me I just had to meet this creative young man," Lack recalled. After meeting Tom, Lack hired him on the spot.
The creative young man, who disregarded technology, designed buildings on napkins and sketchbooks. He was a "McGiver-esque" man, who, older brother Trey says laughing, "learned to fix everything, because he was constantly breaking things." Tom was an intensely involved and talented man, but he was also a person his loved ones wanted to wash their hands of on occasion.
"My mother was the last respectable person in our family," Trey recalled. "So when Tom got kicked out of high school my mother begged and pleaded with the school to give him a second chance so he could graduate with his class." The school offered Tom a second chance, but two hours before the end of the last day of school, Tom padlocked the library. It took the district until 5 p.m. to unlock the place. Tom was expelled and didn't graduate with his class.
Despite his wily character, Tom was a tender individualist and you just couldn't hold a grudge against him.
"He was a bright guy, with a broad vision -- a self-effacing fellow," Lack said. "But he embodied characteristics I would like to embody myself."
For Tom, the world was a buffet that you ate from with gusto. Hills were for practicing back flips, rivers were to paddle, cars were to decorate, and deserts were places you explored on mountain bike.
"Tom lived on the edge, but if he fell off, he never took anyone with him and he didn't complain about it," Trey said.
When they were young their father would say of the three brothers' financial abilities: Randy would save money, Trey would spend it, and Tom would lose it. His father's premonition was right.
Long time friend Mike Kryzytski told of the time he and Mike got paid for a job. Tom stuffed his wallet full of cash before the two took off for a drink. "It wasn't 10 minutes later and he had lost his wallet between the job and the bar," Kryzytski said. "He looked everywhere but never found it. But he wasn't upset."
One Christmas, after the family had opened a gluttonous number of gifts, Tom presented the family with his. The gift was a tent, which held a beautiful structure representing the traditional emblems of a prosperous community -- court, school, church and home. In the tradition of the Pacific Northwest Indian custom, where wealth is re-distributed by the burning of material possessions, Tom announced that this was the Christmas Potlatch of 1986, and then burned the handcrafted model to the ground.
His life ended much the same way. Ten days after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the disease snuffed the life of the architect, sign maker, draftsmen, photographer and blacksmith. Though his talent burned in the Potlatch of cancer, his legacy lives on in structures he planned, designed and built, as well as in the hearts and minds of the many people he inspired the world over.
