The Lady in Pink

Today I write a tribute to the lady who gave a richer, deeper meaning to my southern childhood, and years later brought enhanced pleasure to my Florida summers at the beach.

A timeline runs down the middle of the memories I have of you dear Jenny. The first part of that line is set in the hometown of old, that halcyon time of the early 1950s when everything was fresh sunlight, blooming figs, prancing Chihuahuas and red Ramblers. Your beautiful old home on Maywood Avenue, that perfectly placed jewel on the curve of the road, was my playground—mine and Cindy’s—for so many happy hours. But of course those hours were under your care, in the embrace of your always warm, watching heart. It is my sad regret that the years have taken away too many of those memories, too many of the shapes and colors of childhood. What remains are brief flashes of light from half remembered poetry, each flash illuminating a memory of your face.

And then suddenly one day years later, there we were in Florida, and I was so happy to see you again. I remember our first words together after a long separation of years. We were standing at the door of Cindy & Jack’s house in Mt Dora, and you weren’t sure I would recognize you, so you said to me, “I’m Jenny Christy, Bill.” In fact, I had recognized you in the dark from fifty feet away and knew in the first moment that you were the one and only Genevieve Christy. My answer to your ‘self-introduction’ was, “Well, of course, you are. Who’d you think you were?” That night probably ended horribly for you, because I teased you mercilessly about your beloved Nelson Eddy. But regardless of my badly-aimed slander, Nelson was always the man you thought he was, right up to the day of his death.

Sometime later, I remember sitting with you on the sofa at the beach, you showing me each lovingly crafted page of your latest fan scrapbook. Michael Crawford had by then nudged Nelson Eddy aside.

Nelson, Michael, Maywood Avenue, Mt Dora, or New Smyrna Beach, I will never forget the Lady in Pink, the lady with the red Rambler, and the lady with the big heart of gold who will always occupy a corner of my heart.

I love you Jenny, and you linger in my thoughts.

Genevieve Christy

1916-2007