I came into her life late, maybe the last twenty years. She walked off the earth recently and I think she was about ninety-five. Here’s some of what I remember about her.

Once we visited her house for dinner. She invited me into her studio where she casually pulled out her work from the last year and still others from twenty and forty years previous. All the while she spoke with passion and firmly held opinions. Equally surprising was when she asked my opinion despite my art world innocence. Another time we were both guests at an elegant salon style dinner. Eventually the single malt scotch in me began to opine. Edie at this point leaned forward, eyes firmly holding me in her gaze. The man behind the scotch though “oh my, I hope I know what I’m talking about because otherwise…”

Late in life Edie married Bill and theirs was a relationship which delighted not only themselves but everyone in their presence. Bill played the good-natured curmudgeon while his wife was ready to roll her eyes and exclaim “oh Bill” in mock disapproval. Together they made my spirit laugh.

Edie was beautiful. Her smile was easy and radiant. Her wardrobe was lively and worn with panache. She made ninety seem like the best time of life. I always made a mental connection between the cut of Edie’s persona and the black and white pictures of Georgia O’Keefe taken in New York by my favorite photographer, Alfred Stieglitz. Lovely, exotic, a hint of the coquette and a dash of mystery wrapped in a strong and determined will.

Farewell lovely Edie.