A Tribute to my good Friend, Nancy Lee

There are friends and then there are Friends. I have many friends, and I thank God for them. But those who are Friends almost deserve a different word in the English language. These are the Friends who are a significant part of your life. They know your secrets, your foibles, your accomplishments, and can make an accurate recommendation of a movie or a book, being correct about 98% of the time. Because they know you - they know your preferences; what makes your eyes glaze over, what makes you walk out of a movie. These Friends are, simply put, woven into the fabric of your life.
Out of the blue, you get a call, a message, or someone comes to your house. Your friend is no longer.
April 22, 2011, was when I got the call. My Friend Nancy Lee died that morning. Her daughter found her in her home.
Was it a surprise? No, not really. Nancy Lee had lived a good life. She raised four children of whom she was rightfully proud. Her grandchildren and great-grandchildren carry on the genes, becoming talented, educated, and upstanding citizens of the 21st century. She has been there for them, attending countless games and concerts, inserting her superior knowledge and values into their lives.
About ten years ago, Nancy Lee began having heart problems. A heart attack, subsequent surgery, and what we can only call a "bum ticker" slowly and gradually consumed Nancy Lee's life.
Yet, these problems, along with particularly nasty rheumatoid arthritis, did not defeat her.
She was a stubborn one, my Friend Nancy Lee.
As I expected would happen, Nancy Lee checked out on her own terms.
No hospitalization. No emergency room. No hospice. No schlepping oxygen or heart devices. No relatives around her hospital bed, weeping or gnashing of teeth. Nothing short of a miracle would have made her well. She knew that. And although she didn't voice it to me or maybe even to her family, we knew that, too.
My respect and love for this woman goes back to my first years in Rochester. We both sang in Rochester Symphony Chorale. I was looking to continue my voice training and she came highly recommended as a voice teacher and coach. If I were to write what I learned from her I would surely run out of RAM, ROM, and all the hard drives I have. I never sing as much as a hymn or the National Anthem without putting one of her pearls of wisdom into it. She was brilliant. It wasn't long before we became friends, as we realized those passions and dispassions we had in common.
We both had a passion for music. Concerts, MPR, recordings, PBS, especially classical, instrumental and voice. We didn't always agree - she was kinder than me!
We both had a passion for animals. She was a dog person. I was a cat person. We didn't let that break up our friendship. It's all about the respect. She always had one of more dogs, loved them and cared for them with a genuine zeal.
We both had a passion for politics. We frequently met for breakfast or dinner, and our conversation inevitably turned to the state of the governing bodies. We rolled eyes over the latest press, laughed or cried at what we felt would destroy our country. Our e-mail accounts flew back and forth with the latest little juicy spot of liberalism we found. Did you hear Rachel or Jon Stewart, or were you listening to MPR this afternoon?
Both of us moaned at the desecration of the English language. Eyebrows shot upon hearing the words jew-le-ry or re-la-tor. Misspelled words on a menu would prevent us from returning to a restaurant regardless of the food.
There were times I would be sliding from my chair to the floor at a restaurant as Nancy Lee pointed out a mistake in the menu or told a wait person we were women, in response to their innocent question of "What can I get for you guys?"
I couldn't drag Nancy Lee to a rock concert or a Twins game. But that was OK. I have other Friends who go to them.
Sadly, you didn't wait long enough to see Vincent D'Onofrio return to Law and Order: Criminal Intent.
So, my dear Friend, you are up there coaching the angels on the proper way sing to the Heavenly Host. Your presence will be missed by so many of us. Yet, I expect at the next Symphony concert you will be hanging out up there in the second balcony enjoying the concert. Your legend lives on.