"Lee"

In the Spring of 1983 I was contacted by a representative of AMI in Los Angeles and offered a job on the administrative staff of the King Khaled Eye Specialist Hospital in, of all places, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I never imagined that I would ever end up in a place like that. However, my circumstances being what they were, I was only too glad to accept the offer and entrust my fate to whatever was in store for me in that distant land.

I arrived and was assigned to my new home, Villa No. 13 on the KKESH Housing Compound. My first day, like all first days, was awkward and filled with apprehension. I was shown my office, introduced to the staff in Administration, then taken on a tour of the hospital and introduced to all the key players. The staff to whom I was introduced all seemed to be nice folks and happy to be a part of such a magnificent venture. When I was taken to the Nursing Department, however, I was immediately awestruck by the Director of Nursing. I could sense that Lee Brown was no ordinary person. She had a presence about her that conveyed someone who knew her craft, was secure within herself and could be counted on to do a better-than-average job. She was gracious without being saccharine. I could sense her strength and her self-assurance. She was what she was. She was the real deal. I instinctively liked her and my affection for Lee only grew over the years. She proved to be one of the best friends I ever had. A privilege I never took for granted and one I would cherish for the rest of my life.

Lee was justly proud of her many accomplishments in life. She was proud to be a Nurse and she was a staunch defender and advocate for the profession. She would go to bat for her staff without the slightest hesitation. Her loyalty and support was a given to everyone who worked for her. She might disagree with a person, but she never left them hanging out. The bunch she brought with her from UC Irvine were real professionals. They knew their stuff and they were always loyal to Lee. They might disagree with her, but they never disparaged her. She was a tough task master, but she was fiercely loyal and they all knew it. Every one of them was a true professional and reflected the benefit of having worked with Lee. She knew that and never took it for granted.

One of her staff once showed me a photo of Lee in her younger days. I did not recognize the ultra-feminine, fashion plate. Although I rather suspect she carried that period in her life with the same style and grace I came to know, I preferred the one I knew. That Lee was a mature woman, with a short hairdo of grey, a face etched by life’s experiences and blue eyes that reflected a special warmth and kindness that lurked just below the surface of her persona. She had a matter-of-fact way of talking that would be punctuated by a hearty laugh that was both reassuring and heart-warming. Her mode of dress was a pair of slacks, an appropriate top, flat shoes and a white lab coat. It never changed in all the years I worked with her. After hours and on weekends it was a pair of blue jeans, a casual top or a sweat shirt and a pair of flip flops.

Lee was the most egalitarian person I have ever known. She accepted everyone for whom and what they were, with no normative or value judgments. If you were fortunate to have her call you a friend, you were a real friend, never to be taken for granted, forgotten or dismissed. To be sure, she had her standards and she would never hesitate to express them. She might have been tough, but she was never mean. The worst that could be expected to come from her mouth in regard to someone she may have held in contempt was for her to dismiss them by saying, “What can you expect? He is a prick.” End of story.

Our villas were close and we would often walk home together at the end of the day. It didn’t take long before she casually said one day, “If you aren’t doing anything this weekend, come on over and I will feed you.” That was the start of a friendship I would treasure for the rest of my life. She was a great cook; not gourmet but just good, basic food that warmed the cockles of your soul. She would, occasionally, have a sit-down dinner, always well prepared and served in fine style. But, it was always comfortable, never stuffy. She would frequently share a meal of hot and spicy food with me, with both of us sitting at the table, perspiring profusely and repeatedly saying how good it was. A bit sadistic perhaps, but an epicurean orgasm for both of us.

Lee wasted no time in acquiring all the amenities of a real home. She was an aficionado of music from the big band era and she soon had a collection of tapes that would take her back to an earlier time in her life. She was an avid reader and her collection of books grew exponentially. A good book was always close by.

She loved old movies and we would watch them with some degree of regularity. I will always remember the time when we were watching one of the “oldies but goodies” that was laced with a heavy dose of sentimentality. She made it a point to sit slightly behind me. As we became engrossed in the plot, I could hear sounds that suggested Lee was crying. I knew, however, that was a side of Lee that was personal and very private. If I knew what was good for me, I would respect that and make no attempt to intrude in that special moment. I never mentioned that experience, but I was humbled by the fact that I had the good fortune to experience it. I wasn’t surprised. It was just another facet of a great lady for whom I had a profound respect and an abiding affection. That is ever so much more than just a fleeting moment with an acquaintance; that is the stuff of real friendship and something to be treasured.

As I moved up the ranks I was given the rare privilege of being assigned one of the white Oldsmobile 98’s. Because women were not allowed to drive cars in Saudi Arabia, I would always take Lee and a few of the other women for a Thursday morning grocery shopping junket to the local A&P. Lee was a serious shopper and always bought the best of what they had to offer. On one particular occasion, I completed my shopping before Lee was finished. I took my groceries to the car and went back to see about Lee. She was in the process of checking out and, as the groceries were bagged, I would take them and place them in her shopping cart. As she was paying the bill, I wheeled the cart out to the car and put her groceries in the trunk. Betty Becker and I waited and waited and waited. Betty and I soon began to wonder what in the world had happened to Lee. I went back inside the market and she was nowhere to be seen. I walked up and down the aisles and I finally spotted that distinctive walk as she was pushing her cart. I could tell she was royally pissed by the deliberate way she was walking. I caught up with her and asked what she was doing. She said, “Some son-of-a-bitch stole all my groceries and I have to buy them over again!” When I told her that I had taken them to the car, she replied, “Then why in the hell didn’t you tell me?” I wanted to laugh but I knew very well that, for my own good, I had better not.

Lee loved to travel and I dare say she was a real trooper. She was adventuresome, enjoyed fine hotels, good food and a shot of Glen Livet whenever she managed to free herself from the restricted lifestyle of the Kingdom. Those who had the experience of travelling with her always had a good time and a treasure trove of memories to last a lifetime. I was not so fortunate, but I enjoyed the stories and the narrative she always shared.

Lee enjoyed a good car (BMW 635 Csi), a nice home on Nordic Drive in Orange, California and her dog. The last one I knew of was “Bumsa.” When Bumsa died, Lee decided not to get another dog, citing her age as the reason. However, in my heart I am more inclined to think that she didn’t want to run the risk of the next dog outliving her, a consideration that would have been so typical of the Lee Brown I knew.

As with all things that are tied to the continuum of time, the day came when we went our separate ways. I stayed in Saudi Arabia and she returned to the life of retirement she would come to know in California. I only saw her a couple of times after that, once during a brief consulting gig in Riyadh and, the last time, at her sister’s home in the Willamette Valley of Oregon. She never looked older and all of her endearing features were just as alive and delightful as they had ever been.

I am, by nature, a loner. I tend to place everything and everyone on a time/space continuum. Far from being a virtue, I regard that as one of my biggest failings. I reflect back on all of the birthday cards and Christmas cards that I always received from Lee. She never forgot me and I always had a sense of joy when a greeting card and a brief letter, in that distinctive scrawl, would arrive in the mail. I was reassured in knowing that I was never forgotten. I never returned those many kindnesses and one of my most painful regrets is that I never called her on the phone as I should have. She would never have treated me in like fashion.

Lee made no bones of the fact that she was an atheist. She never disparaged anyone for their beliefs and was very private about her own. She was, in death, the matter-of-fact person she always was in life. If she could talk and anyone asked her why the end of her life was so simple and unceremonious, she would say, “What is the big deal?” To those of us who knew and loved her it is a big deal.

I have an ingrained need to believe that there is a life after this one. That is my choice and a belief I have no need to inflict on anyone else. However, if I am right and she is wrong, and I am lucky enough to cross the threshold from this life into the next, I have every confidence that Lee will be the first one to greet me, saying, “Well, Bob, I guess you were right.” I sure hope so.