A tribute to our dear friend Walter Coughenour

Been thinking of Walter lately. He is probably as dear to us as any we have been privileged to know through Jan’s art. Nancy and Bill, his son and daughter in law, brought this old man to the show at the fair grounds in Saline. After my greeting hug with Nancy and a hand shake with Bill and Jan’s hug of both, Nancy said, “Gil, I’d like you to meet my father in law, Walter Coughenour. He is ninety years old and still golfs twice a week”. Walter is seriously looking at a mid sized painting of Jan’s. I was in my ADHA mode and said, ” nice to meet you Walter. Jan’s stepmother is eighty nine and still golfs. If you buy that painting I’ll throw in the step mother.” Walter’s left eyebrow did a slight curve upward. After a period of time he said, “I’ve seen the painting. I have yet to see the lady.” He tempered my wild side with kindness and we became good friends for the next nine years. He bought the painting. Bought another at ninety-one and one at ninety-two and one at ninety-three. I remember the last one he bought. It was a large painting and he wanted to make sure Bill and Nancy liked it. He said, “You know I’m going to croak soon and they will get the paintings. I want to be sure they will enjoy them”.

We had our Purple Rose Theater group going. It is a first night of every play, four a year, where our friends join us with time at our house, followed by dinner at the Common Grill and to see the play. Walter and friends would come every time. They would come to our house and see Jan’s new work. Walter loved that time with us. Our group was relatively small at that time and we could fit, 32 seats, or almost fit in the downstairs room at the Common Grill. We now fill the theater. Walter would back down the stairs with me in front or behind him to make sure he didn’t fall. After the first Petey the snake story by Walter, the group would always make sure that he told it again at each meeting. It was a story of Petey the snake and his girlfriend going over to Mrs. Potts to hith and pith in her pit. The story ended with Mrs. Petey saying, “WELL, I knew Mrs. Potts before she had a pit to hith in. We probably heard that story twenty times and never once did Walter miss a work. It got so the wait staff at the Common Grill would hide in the staircase behind the wall and hear another Petey the snake story by Walter.

He loved the plays at the Purple Rose. It was not easy for him to handle the evening starting at four in the afternoon and ending about ten or later. He could no longer do it. We continued to go to his apartment at least quarterly at the retirement home in Oakwood Manor in Dearborn. He would tell us each time of his childhood and on through his career at Edison. We’d either take him out to eat or eat there. Now he was gentle man but don’t know if many knew he took Playboy Magazine well into his mid nineties. Occasionally I’d get a letter from him with a joke cut out. He always made sure there were no female body parts on the backside of the joke in respect of Jan. He so loved Jan. He would say that she brought so much joy to him by her art and her being. I remember when we went there one Christmas season. He always bought one hundred one pound fruit cakes to give to everybody. That year they delivered them on his back porch. He wasn’t able to carry them in and the raccoons and squirrels had a feast. We picked out a couple untattered for us and carried in others for him.

He’d tell us how he would talk to his departed wife and she would talk back. He’d say, “Walter, make the bed.” In another voice he’d answer, “I don’t want to.” “Make that bed. I taught you better than that.” “Well, ok this time.” “You need to make it better than you’re doing.” “Oh, you even pick on me after you have passed.” “Quit whimpering and do it right”. He’d laugh at the humor of it all.

He’d tell us that it took about an hour and a half for him to get dressed. There was a four inch rise to get over into the shower. He’d painfully move one foot over and have to get the other one in somehow. He had a duck like thing he could squeeze and pick up things. It was about two feet long. His shorts would be laid out on the floor and one foot placed in the hole of the shorts followed by the other. With the duck thing he would pull them up. He said sometimes that he’d have them up only to realize that they were on back words.

He’d say to us, “why do you put up with such a foolish old man.” We could not convince him that his friendship meant more to us than he’d ever know. Walter had his ninety-eighth birthday party at the Oakland Hills Country Club where he had been a member for decades. There were about two hundred people there. It’s hard to imagine a man of ninety-eight with ten friends willing to spend time with him let alone two hundred. There was a time during the evening that friends were welcomed to tell of their friendship and relationship to him. I was so tempted to tell of our meeting but couldn’t find the courage. I thought I’d cry and look like the beginning of a foolish old man.

Walter passed on later that year. We were not able to attend the funeral but did get together many times when it counted more. Jan and I both hope the day will come when we will see him again and hear the Petey the snake story and some others I haven’t mentioned.

Love Gil
(with Jan looking over my shoulder)