Sista Deb

I cannot think about Debbie without smiling. I think that is probably the reaction many people have to her. I first came to know her when we were teenagers. We had both dated the same guy (not at the same time, and when dating really meant "dating"). Most folks in town knew him as a good looking, but wild guy of Native American heritage; girls loved him and guys gave their half-finished, warm beers his last name for his careless tendency to leave his that way. All had a good time with him, but said he was full of tall stories. He was. He had one brown and one green eye and was sweet, devoted and a lot of fun. He was my first high school boyfriend, and I was gullible as the day was long, so I believed a lot of things he told me, including that he had to leave to go live on a reservation in Florida. I cried for a day until I realized that there was no truth to the story. Whatever happened eventually, I have little memory of, but we broke up and went our own ways. I was too young for a serious relationship and he was old enough to be ready.

I don't know where he fit into Debbie's life. But she was then and is now loved by women and men alike. I have never heard her say a negative thing about anyone in the time I have known her. Our paths crossed again in high school when we went on double dates with Etch and B.J. It is possible that both guys were our first "real" loves. Then I had no idea that eventually I would become her sister in law or that B.J. would die violently from a car accident three months after I left for college. I just remember going places in "Etch's" car, sitting in the back seat with B.J., with Deb up front keeping things lively, laughing and chatting the night away.

Deb is one of those women who can make a room go silent when she enters because of her unique and ravenous beauty that begins with sea-green eyes, full head of nearly black hair, distinct style of dress--always a little fun, sexy and funky, but never distasteful. Her straight white teeth and giant smile almost finish off her face, but right next to her beautiful, laughing mouth, she has a triangle of beauty marks that no one can forget. Her physical make up is the stuff of heroines that grace covers of romance novels.

If Deb understands her beauty, she comports herself as if she is unaware of it. Her Grand Canyon heart and sweetness overpower the exterior. The room that goes silent is then engaged by her genuine kindness and charm. I really believe she loves everybody on their own terms, full of grace, generosity of heart and acceptance. I never felt any other way in her presence; this is so despite my awareness that she has had her own trials as her life's path has taken her many places.

After I left for college, I found Deb again one summer night back at home when I went with my sister to watch her sing in a band that my sister's boyfriend worked for as a "light man". That is the night I "met" my childrens' father, Deb's brother, who was also there to watch her sing. The way he tells the story is he asked for a chair and I said, "yes I'll dance". In retrospect, it is a strange convergence of events. The "light man" married my sister and they had my nephew together. I married the man who asked me to dance and became Deb's sister in law. Deb spent the evening singing on stage, entertaining a room full of genuine admirers with her throaty voice and beauty that shined through everything else in the room.

I had known of her brother in high school for his good looks and generally shy demeanor. He was a couple years older than me, so I'm not sure we even knew each other well enough to greet each other passing in the hallway. Deb knew everybody and everybody knew and loved Deb. She was elected homecoming princess. At our school, students didn't "run" for election, but those honors were bestowed by the collective faith of a general voting student body who recognized the beauty, light and kindness of that person. Deb deserved every vote and received the admiration of all who knew her.

After I married her brother, we shared holidays, simultaneous pregnancies, time with our babies, days at the pool or beach, and our entries into motherhood and marriage. There is no other woman my age that I shared all of it with. I had my own sister, but she would start her family later. I had other girlfriends, but they would start their marriages and families later. Our parents befriended each other, and through our family connections, I noticed Deb's special relationships with her brothers. She and my kids' dad shared a lot of loving banter and laughter about each other, and with her brother ten years her junior, a protective, nurturing and lively friendship.

This is why I cannot think of Deb without smiling. She reminds me of happy times, familial love, the coming together of little children into the loving arms of their respective grandparents, laughter, sisterhood, and the bountiful affection for my daughters she bestowed on them. When you are with Deb, you feel like the only person in the world. That is her magic. She also reminds me of my adolescent years, coming of age and knowing what it meant to be a good person. She did not gossip about others or do any of the "mean" things that teenage girls tend to do to each other. She was her daddy's girl as I am, and the first born daughter in her family as I am. We both gave our respective parents their first grandchildren. Each of us had the support and love of strong (and ladylike) mothers who taught us good values and modeled strong parenting.

For reasons that don't need explanation, Deb and I hadn't seen each other in a little over twenty years until we met again at my first daughter's wedding, knowing that in the not too distant future, my first grandchild would be born. It goes well beyond words to explain who Deb is to me or how she seems to show up at the most meaningful times in my life. I had missed her more than I can describe, but had always asked when I spoke with my daughters or their father how she was doing, and always hoped she was okay. When her first born son was in Iraq, I worried through the universe that he would be okay. Despite our distance, the abundance of my memories of her are filled by no one else because we entered each others' lives when every dream was possible.The ways and times our lives criss-crossed can only be the work of God because there is no other explanation for that gift of a Sista like Deb.