Although she had planned to retire in 2000, she suspended participation in the daily affairs of Bread & Roses in November 1999 when she was diagnosed with cancer. However, she continued to assist the organization in many ways.
She found her usual 90-mph pace clipped short. But, as is her character, she is meeting the challenge head-on, and with a lifetime humanitarian's eye for the silver lining.
"I will say that I'm at a turning point," she says without a shred of self-pity.
Fariña has avoided talking about her illness as much as possible, because "I don't wish to be treated or thought of as a sick person. The important thing is for me to keep working, and to get well."
But she also says that she could not ask for a better support system: "I feel really lucky in so many ways with friends and family. Everyone's been incredibly supportive. Being with Bread & Roses all these years let me know the goodness of people."
She laughs, adding: "Coming from the entertainment industry, this was quite an insight!"
And her illness? "Well, it's really another form of miracle," she says. "A very uncomfortable one, but it's true! You can learn from everything."
"She was an angel," said Bay Area TV personality Jan Yanehiro. "She gave of herself and asked nothing in return."
"She was the heart and soul of heart and soul," said comedian Michael Pritch-ard of San Rafael.
Cassandra Flipper, executive director of Bread & Roses, said "We have lost a unique person in the world of arts and social service."
Bread & Roses, begun in 1974, brought international recognition to Ms. Farina for its compassionate and life-affirming goal: Bringing free live music to people confined in institutions - jails, hospitals, juvenile facilities and rest homes.
Eighteen months ago, Ms. Farina appeared onstage at the War Memorial Opera House in San Francisco to celebrate, with a host of show biz headliners, the agency's 25th anniversary.
Last year, the agency served 82 institutions with more than 500 concerts. In June, Bonnie Raitt sang for Bread & Roses at San Quentin Prison.
Ms. Farina gave up her own singing career to found Bread & Roses and to nurse it through years of hard times.
Yesterday, folk singer Pete Seeger reminisced on her efforts, quoting philosopher Eric Hoffer: "Creativity is nice, but maintenance is the essential art of civilization."
"Mimi was an inspiration to many people all over the world - far more than she ever understood," said Lana Severn, a close friend and agency associate for 18 years.
Ms. Farina's sister, folk singer Joan Baez, said she "filled empty souls with hope and song. She held the aged and forgotten in her light. She reminded prisoners that they were human beings."
Though devastated by her death, Baez said "knowing that her life's work will remain with us and flourish helps bring solace."
Baez was with Ms. Farina when she died, as were her mother, her older sister Pauline Bryan of Woodside, and her partner Paul Liberatore, an IJ columnist and feature writer.
"She gave us time to come together, to grieve and to say goodbye," Liberatore said. "I'm so joyful for her, knowing she is out of pain."
A Share the Care circle of 20 close friends helped support Ms. Farina through the last months of her illness. Her cousin, Skip Henderson of Greenbrae, said "she always drew a kind of charismatic affection. She was physically such a beautiful person, and even in her illness retained all that color and beauty."
Colleagues in the music and arts community were "incredibly generous," according to Yanehiro, who particularly noted Robin Williams, Boz Scaggs and Huey Lewis. Bonnie Raitt volunteered to give a benefit concert, she said. "Others said 'whatever she needs, I'll be there.' Huey Lewis was a leader of the pack."
Yanehiro, a longtime friend, instigated the Share the Care circle, based on a book by Cappy Capossela and Sheila Warnock of Sonoma. Friends formed committees to "make sure her needs were met," Yanehiro said. Others dealt with food, transportation, and treatment procedures.
"Melita Figueroa brought dinner every Tuesday," Yanehiro said. "Every Thursday, Zemy Junio brought Mimi's favorite foods."
Jeanne Bogardus, executive director of the Marin Arts Council and ex-colleague at Bread & Roses, managed a network of e-mails and health updates to old friends, "more than 100 people who consider themselves connected to her in a really deep way. It's been amazing."
Bogardus said Ms. Farina handled her illness "with enormous grace and style. (Her death) has broken my heart."
Mill Valley attorney Suzanne Badenhoop accompanied Ms. Farina to every major doctor's appointment.
"Mimi invited me into her life in a way that no one has ever done before," Badenhoop said. "And my life is richer because of that intimacy." Badenhoop said Ms. Farina "always took care of those taking care of her."
Severn will remember her as a "true natural beauty with extraordinary grace and generosity," a great sense of humor and "an appreciation for the absurdities of life."
Ms. Farina took an active role in her own care, using the best of mainline Western medicine and alternative treatment. Two months ago, she spent three weeks at a cancer clinic in Aeskulap, Switzerland.
Within a month of her return, she experienced a serious decline, and was in and out of sleep for most of the last two weeks.
Open Mic | Flower Power
Since i first heard the news last week–a short, sad radio report announcing that activist and folksinger Mimi Farina had died of cancer at age 56–my mind has been drifting back, at odd moments, to the brief but unforgettable conversation I once had with the groundbreaking founder of Bread & Roses, the organization that brings music into the lives of prisoners and other people cut off from the mainstream of society.
It was January 1996. I’d called the Bread & Roses offices in Mill Valley to invite Farina to see the film Dead Man Walking, a true-life story about Sister Helen Prejean and her controversial friendship with a convicted killer marked for execution. The invitation was part of my ongoing project, a collection of taped conversations with interesting individuals, responding to the emotions and ideas within challenging movies. Farina graciously accepted.
After the film–through which she cried, openly–we took a walk along the streets of Mill Valley. Farina was determined to come up with an explanation for why people like Prejean–and herself–would turn their lives to the needs of others.
“When I look at the whole work of Bread & Roses–performing for convicts in prison, seniors who are isolated, children in kids’ wards who may never come back out again–I realize it comes from my deep, deep need to try and make some sort of community for them. Sister Helen does it by bringing them a sense of God,” she said. “I do it by bringing them music.”
“But what do you get out of it?” I asked.
“It’s not that tangible,” she replied, with a sigh. “It’s not the money, certainly. Bread & Roses is not driven by the bottom line.” She continued walking, musing silently before adding, “I think it’s just so I can rest within myself, within my soul. Also, sometimes, I know it’s so I have a place to be, that I’m proud of. And literally a place to go during the day, a place that I’ve created and that is meaningful to me.”
At that point she stopped. Smiling an enormous, face-brightening smile, Farina laughed. “Oh, I don’t know why I do this. And I’ve just decided that it doesn’t matter. Sister Helen says she didn’t know why she was doing what she did–and neither do I.
“I’m just thankful, so thankful, that I get to do it at all.”
From the July 26-August 1, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.
https://bohemian.com/open-mic-1-43/
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