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Tom MacColl Huston

1945 - 2009, Santa Barbara

Thomas MacColl Huston - July 19, 1945 - June 4, 2009

Painter, poet, visionary, filmmaker, sailor, surfer, world traveler and loving husband. Passed away unexpectedly yet peacefully aboard his sailboat, reading an art magazine.

He served his country in the US Navy as an Underwater Demolition Team Diver from 1966-1970.

Attended University of Oregon Architecture School 1963-1966; University of California at San Diego BA 1970-1972 MFA 1972-1975.

Survived by his Wife, Charlene Maria Huston; Dog Dingo & Kitty Clover; Brother in Law John L. Pitcher; Brother in Law Hank Pitcher; Sister in Law Susan Pitcher; Nephews Lincoln and Hart Pitcher; Julia Emerson, Tsering Gayalthung Tashi (Tseta), Jim MacAninch & a whole tribe of loving friends and extended family.

Services pending. Please visit pacificpolycraft.com for info.

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We'll miss you Tommy Boy, your quick laugh, your intelligence, your mystery, your bright intensity in all things that mattered to you, your compulsive artistic ideas. You was an original. I'll miss our fleeting, mad conversations over the past 30 something years. Be at peace, brother.

MightyQuinn (anonymous profile)
June 10, 2009 at 12:59 p.m. (Suggest removal)

Tom, I've always thought of you as the family I got to choose. You will be missed more than you could imagine. Peace to you.
Carolyn Morthole

cmorthole (anonymous profile)
June 11, 2009 at 9:54 a.m. (Suggest removal)

The Story

The whole story as I remember it best..
.
FIRST DAY

It was a regular olde' day in Santa Barbara,just blu sky,84 degrees and
I am sitting in the hot tub
at the Y in Montecito
...
This is a regular thing every nite for years...Bayou'Baker was the greatest Story Teller
and was kind of like the 'Chairman',
BIG John Gill,the man himself...
Americas greatest adrenlin junkie and everyones best friend,
the Big John story is another story and Ms.Pitcher
herself will probably put that saga on paper...
Dolfunman was there and a great guy who could read your past
,traveler and writer..A true Santa Barbara character...
We cant forget the swim team,the "masters" who
were there every nite to practice.

As I look towards the Pool I can see her coming
our way,right on time or a little late if thats OK.
I formally announce that MsPitcher has joined the round table
and is jumping up and down with glee...
This was a sweet place in a sweet time and I know I cant' get back there,
no way,no how
So I say,whats with you...I met him she says,
you wouldnt believe it...A living,breathing Maniac
and I'm going to meet him later on his boat...
He is going to be my Maniac I just know it...
Well whistle a happy tune girl,looks like your on a roll...
Any more details, 'UH' not yet she says but asks DolFunMan what he thinks
and only she understood what he said..

I say first day or first time..

.This was like seeing Elvis in his first concert, or the Rockettess at RadioCityMusicHall at a grand open ing but I have been so lucky to stretch first day into many,many years...
They were beautiful,when you take talent and maddness
and shake em up together you got a
great show goin on ....My best TEAM friends...? Who was Talent and who was Maddness..
.
Adios amigo,once you get thru the thick clouds its straight on till morning,
To me your not gone,you just not around
,
See yu when I see yu,
Job well done
bri

nelumbiana (anonymous profile)
June 12, 2009 at 8:08 a.m. (Suggest removal)

Tom: Your endless reserve of kindness, your insight, your words well chosen succinct and just yours, always a smile and a laugh, always able to make time, take time and let it be time . . . a scholar who looked through the lens, past the book and never down the nose, did we leave something out this go around, well we always picked up the thread the next day, the next week, next month and then sometimes the years passed, and now this thread, unraveled, hands cannot grasp, fingers bent to task cannot twist the end or make the bend, so my friend, this one we will leave undone, and farewell to you on your journey, a farewell of late, for the lines slipped unseen, no lashing to the decks, no plan for rough passage, sharp winds or steep seas, no call for charts, a hand or crew, this one rides easy . . . and only fitting on Siboney, wooden boat, sheets and sails, and down below, holding your sailor's soul and then letting it go . . . on these mortal shores, solace someday in the smile you left behind, but now, I, hat in hand, wave to hail you over the horizon and ponder where next you may reach . . .

Farewell Tom, peace be with you

Jeffery (anonymous profile)
June 12, 2009 at 10:53 p.m. (Suggest removal)

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