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Coyote Dee
February 25, 2005
My family lost a close friend on Monday. I just got back from the memorial service and I'm going to give thanks for Dee & remember both her and her love of life.
Dee worked with my stepmother on acquisition reform at the pentagon for several years. She worked hard and she knew how to play hard too. Bigger than life and completely fearless in the face of it, she was always cracking jokes while smoking her skinny little cigarettes. She was an Oklahoma cowgirl – A Woman Who Runs With the Wolves.
Coyote women are independent, and take good care of their kin. Nothing makes them happier than to laugh and howl at a glistening moon, and they sure as hell don't worry what anyone thinks about it. Coyote women have a knack for knowing how to do things, and they know how to survive.
Coyote Dee was so smart and her mind seemed to run a million miles a minute. Like all of us, she wasn't perfect, but certainly didn't dwell on it. She was full of gusto, and big, big dreams. Nothin' much could stand in the way of her unabashed zest and love of life. If Dee was anything, she was (and still is) a full-throttle character.
She always said she wanted to be buried in her Mercedes, and although they won't be able to pull this off for her, she will be laid to rest wearing her red cowgirl boots, her leather jacket with fringe on it, and of course, her cowgirl hat. I think she's ready for some serious partying.
Years ago I drove down to my dad's lake house in my new used car, a red Mazda Miata. It was the first time I met Dee. I was out in front of the house detailing my little roadster and giving it some TLC. The rag top was looking a bit sun-baked, so I broke out the Armor All and sprayed it with a generous coating of oily mist. Halfway through, I decided, "Heck, I should wash the car too," and pulled out the hose and rinsed it down. It was just as I was realizing my stupidity – OILING the rag top BEFORE washing the car – that Dee stepped out of the house, sat down on the front steps, and sized up the situation.
"That's one greazzzy Miata you've got there," she said in her signature Oklahoma twang. "Didn't your daddy ever tell you oil and water don't mix?" Then she laughed this cute little laugh she had... a laugh that pulled your leg and invited you to laugh along with her. I felt incredibly idiotic, but knew it was okay. With Dee, it didn't matter who or what you were, all that mattered is that you were there. She loved interacting with people. Of course, it wasn't long before she convinced me to take her out for a spin.
"Show me what this little car's got!" she said, and off we buzzed up the gravel driveway... me and Dee speeding along in a red roadster on the brightest, clearest, sunniest day that any convertible owner could ask for.
As we peeled down a country road with the wind whipping through our hair, she took in a deep breath, exhaled and purred, "Now this... THIS is therapy."
"Yeah, I think you're right!" I chuckled, "Let's just call it Prozac on Pirellis."
I wish everyone could have witnessed the cunning, wild, child-like twinkle she'd get in her eyes. I have no doubt that the glimmer, the smarts, and the chutzpah got her out of and into a load of trouble.
After about 20 mintues I started heading back to the house.
"You're not going back NOW are you?" she asked incredulously. "Come on! A therapy session is an HOUR... don't short change me!"
That was totally Dee.
Sadly, the last two months of her bouyant and blustery life were filled with enormous pain and suffering. I'm choosing not to dwell on that because I know it just wouldn't be her style, and now she is free.
When I got home from the memorial a gentle snow was falling. It was that quiet nighttime kind of snow – the kind of snowy night that no matter how cold it gets, you feel all warm and peaceful inside. I decided to take a stroll around the block to soak in my surroundings and process all the memories Dee's friends and loved ones had expressed earlier in the evening. I started thinking about how we're all so interconnected, and how a little bit of every person we meet rubs off and lives on in our hearts and in our lives. I'm thinking that some of her self-confidence and zest will remain with me, and with every person she met.
I'm also thinking she's driving toward the next big dream with the top pulled down and a summer breeze blowing through her hair. I'm thinking maybe... just maybe... she's running 'cross the prairie... howlin' and laughin' at a full Oklahoma moon.
{ Scott, Annabelle and Colleen ~ please know you're in my thoughts and prayers during this time of deep grief and loss. }
Posted by vincent at February 25, 2005 12:02 AM