My friend Nancy was a kind, genuine, outspoken, loyal, generous, talented woman who died of cancer a year ago today. She was revered by her writing students, to the point where her other friends and I would tease her unmercifully about the saint-like halo that hovered above her head at writing conferences. She patiently played the role as the “straight man” for our endless jokes, would roll her eyes and say, “Good grief.”
Her son and daughter and in-laws and grandchildren adored her.
She delighted in finding odd things no one else wanted and creating something unusual from what she bought for 10 cents at a garage sale or discovered on the side of the road during her daily 5 AM, 6 mile walk. She was a disciplined whirlwind of activity: mowing her huge lawn, raking leaves, cleaning, crafting, writing and decorating. Nancy wrote books from 3:30 AM-7:30 AM (every day!!).
She knew everyone in her town. If she told you she would do something, it would be done. I can’t imagine she ever broke a promise or was disloyal to a friend.
I still expect her to call.
Nancy didn’t really like to leave “the island” (she was always afraid she would get lost) unless someone else was driving, but I could coax her across the bridges with the promise of lunch, coffee and a seat by the fire. Her close friends were always welcome–for hours or days–to her beautiful Victorian house. We spent over fifteen years making ourselves at home around her dining table, before and after yard sales, auctions, conferences, flea markets, lunches, dinners and meetings.
She inherited a garage-full of family treasures from her mother and grandmother; I once watched as she let her dog lick muffin crumbs from a Spode plate. Her attitude was if I’m not good enough to use it, then who is? and what am I waiting for? She taught us to enjoy using our “good” china (and crystal, tablecloths, etc) instead of storing it in boxes.
She and I shared a love of experimental stain removal and Wheat Thins. She saw the movie “Titanic” seven times and loved “Andy Griffith” reruns. She always got a big kick out of Banjo Man and wanted him to join us whenever he could.
She was a political junkie with a strong sense of right and wrong. She delighted in any Clinton scandal, but when I sent her a silly postcard with Bill and Hillary dressed in leather outfits, she was horrified. “What will the mailman think!!??!!”
Our friend Nancy was a serious, no-nonsense woman, but she would laugh until she cried when something struck her funny. Lucky for us, she thought (most of the time) we were hilarious.
I’m so lucky to have had her as a friend.
Nancy talking to a fan at Waldenbooks, February, 1992.
