Remembering Frances...

The Members of the "Intimate Book Group:" Frances Moore, Mary Elizabeth Kiester and Marilyn Brenneman, May 2009. (And of course, me.)


I remember many things about my friend, Frances...

I remember the day I met her. It was a rainy afternoon in April. I now know that the year was 1996, one year after her beloved Sam had passed away. I was the neighbor-to-neighbor volunteer that spring, collecting for the American Heart Association. I got very few responses to those little form letters you send out with the self-addressed, stamped envelopes. But one came back with a personal note..."Please come for a visit..." and a telephone number. It never ocurred to me not to call.

The note turned out to be from my neighbor across the street...Frances Moore -- a neighbor I had yet to meet, although our family had moved into the neighborhood five years earlier.

Although it would have been a short walk, I drove my car that day because it was raining...

I cannot tell you about my first impression of Frances without using the word "twinkly." The woman absolutely twinkled as she introduced herself and welcomed me into her home. I love telling how, upon finding out that I was teaching the 8th grade catechism class at our church, this retired 7th-8th grade English teacher clapsed her hands over her heart and said, "Oh, that is such a wonderful age!" Seriously -- she meant it! I knew then that she was, without a doubt, one of the best teachers that ever walked the halls of Guilford Middle School, and I was sad that she had retired before either of my children could have had her.

Something else I remember about that day is the James Thurber edition on her coffee table...

I was just coming off of a Thurber "binge." (That's how Frances described the times she had felt compelled to read everything a particular author has written.) Upon seeing her book, I told her how much I had enjoyed reading Thurber -- and things that had been written about him. That's how we discovered the bond that would cement our friendship for 13 years...Not just that we both loved James Thurber, but that we shared a passion for reading and authors, period!

I remember some of the wonderful authors I've read -- and fallen in love with -- simply because Frances suggested them -- John Ehle, Clyde Edgerton, Fred Chapel, Jan Karon, Tim McLaren. And I remember a few that we actually met in person...

Reynolds Price. We went together to see him speak at the main library downtown, and another time at Barnes & Noble. What an experience it must have been to have him as a teacher of writing...That strong, resonant voice...It was hard to believe that its owner was confined to a wheelchair!

Robert Morgan. Barnes & Noble again. A small group on a warm autumn afternoon. He read from his book, Gap Creek. He signed our copies, and impressed us as a perfect southern gentleman.

John Berendt. Remember Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil? This is one of my favorite France memories...

Berendt was speaking at Greensboro College, and Frances thought it would be nice to bring her friend, Emily, to see him, too. So I drove these two lovely ladies -- with their walkers in the trunk of my car -- downtown, found a place to park, and managed to get all of us into our seats before Mr. Berendt began his talk. Which was wonderful. He was very handsome, and an entertaining speaker.

At the end of the session, it was announced that the author would be signing copies of his book in another building on another part of the campus. Frances was concerned that she and Emily would have difficulty maneuvering their walkers across campus, and we knew the chances of my finding another parking place before everyone went home for dinner were pretty slim. As we were discussing our options, I saw Mr. Berendt come from behind the curtain and begin speaking with someone at the side of the stage.

Now this is not the type of thing I'm usually comfortable doing, but with Frances prompting me, I approached this rather intimidating fellow -- a New York Times best-selling author -- and explained that I was there with two friends with walkers, and, well, I'm sure he could see the difficulty...Would he mind just signing our books right then and there? He'd be making three ladies (two of them with walkers, remember) very happy, and he'd be saving us a lot of aggravation in the bargain!

I must say that although he obliged, he seemed a little tight-lipped as he looked over my shoulder; I felt properly chastised for being so bold. But when I turned around to find my friends...Gone -- both of them! I'm sure Mr. Berendt was thinking, C'mon, Lady -- Imaginary friends I can understand -- but both of them with walkers?! (I later found Frances and Emily -- and their walkers -- coming out of the restroom.)

I remember how I used to love visiting Frances at her house across the street. Oh, it was always a pleasure to visit Frances, even after she had moved into an assisted-living facility. She was ever the gracious hostess, and she always made me feel like she had nothing more important to do than to make me feel special. (And I know I'm not the only one who felt that way in her presence.)

The wonderful thing about visiting Frances across the street, though, was walking up her long driveway...It seemed like her house was a mile from the road, and that she had a magical forest for a front yard! I'm not exaggerating when I say I felt like Hansel and Gretel must have felt when they started out on their walk through the woods -- but without their apprehension. In this fairy tale, the creature who lived in the house at the end of the road was not a wicked witch, but a beautiful angel with a huge heart!

Oh, I remember so many more things about Frances. I am so thankful for all of those wonderful memories, as well as for the memories that her children, her friends and some of the students whom she loved so much shared at her funeral.

It's been just a month since Frances Askue Moore died. The last time I saw her, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, assuring me that she didn't need a thing...She was just "resting," she was fine. "Good-bye, Darling," she said. "I love you."

I love you, too, Frances. And I treasure all the things around my house that remind me of you...your birdfeeder, my angel pin, a green ceramic vase, some jelly glasses, the tiny cloisonne box from the Smithsonian. Our Intimate Book Group will continue to meet, and we know that you'll be with us whenever we do!

"Butterfly," August 24, 2009 (Kate's LRDC)