They will be missed.

I was so sad to hear of the passing of both Julia and Chett, but also find the timing of their departure together (at 91) quite beautiful. While we didn't have a whole lot of interaction in my grown adult life, my childhood encounters are so memorable to me. Over the past week I've literally been able to recall the tone of both voices. Perfectly. But especially Julia's raspy southern sound.

I picture her sipping a coke with lemon, in a to-go cup always (at 8am! Where did she get it??) drawing on it through a straw into immaculately painted red lips. She was SO GLAMOROUS! I would hide in her closets, filled with pretty flowing clothes, and leave notes to her in her shoes.

Chett, always so mild-mannered, would shyly ask me about this and that. His calm presence making me feel I belonged in this strange world. I remember he had a secretary named Silvia, which to an 8-year old was about the most beautiful name I had ever heard. Like silver! How I wish I could visit his office again, and see the reality of what I remember – or not. I loved stopping in there and looking at everything, dusty papers and files everywhere.

They had a brilliant blue marlin hanging on the staircase that I just could NOT comprehend, and I found it so funny they had to "open" sections of the house to us when we visited. After a LONG, 7-hour drive for a kid, the driveway to the house when we finally got there seemed ENDLESS; their home, a treasure trove of things to discover. We had a fire in the fireplace EVERY NIGHT, and I wasn't allowed to TOUCH ANYTHING. I learned later that it was because the place was filled with beautiful antiques, and things that were forbidden were not due to Chett and Julia's rules or fears, but more likely my own terrified parents fearing I would break something they would never be able to replace. I remember to this day the scent of their home. Musky, fireplace, cigarette smell. Dogs. And we weren't allowed to go outside alone, we might fall off a cliff. But we could safely watch and identify birds landing on feeders thru the picture windows that surrounded the living room.

The ranch, where they kept and rode horses, would have been the first time I rode one. I remember a spotted mare named Lisa, who's mane was braided in a hundred small braids, and a St. Bernard named Moon. And we'd go out to dinner in town, and everyone knew Chett and Judy. This I thought was very cool, not quite grasping small town familiarity, but more remarkably because of who they were, so prevalent in the community. These are things a little kid doesn't pick up on, but of COURSE everyone knew them.

At their house I learned for the first time to *SNAP*, to shuffle a deck of cards, and to make pretty patterns on ordinary paper kitchen napkins using food coloring. I always felt ridiculously welcome there... and now realize what it meant for them to open their doors to children (my brother and I) and make us feel so at home. In one long weekend, endless I'm sure for the adults, I learned every word to Crystal Gayle's "Dont it Make My Brown Eyes Blue", played on a record player over and over, which at the time I believed was genuinely a tribute to my brother's and my own eye color.

These people were incredibly influential to my Mother, and for their influence in her life I am truly grateful. I know they opened doors for her and exposed her to many things, and were also incredibly generous. I am so glad I was present for their 50th wedding anniversary. They will be missed but it's so nice they lived and died together.

To view the memorial service, click here. It's really something. I remember both of those portraits from their home.