Kaye at her 90th Birthday Party
Kaye Mulvey. I’ll always think of her that way – probably because I met her when she and Charles were in their prime. Forty years ago, it was. She was only fifty-two then. She was one classy lady and that never changed. The last time I saw her – maybe three weeks ago, she looked like a million bucks! She always did.
Nyel read her death notice in yesterday’s paper. He came and told me and we didn’t talk for a while. Dozens of images came to mind – Kaye at picnics, Kaye at Friday nights, Kaye telling a joke at the end of the evening – often a shaggy dog story.
And how about the memory of Kaye as she greeted the guests at her 90th birthday party at the Heritage Museum? Dressed to perfection as usual. Her dress was the precise match for the lei that had been flown in from Hawaii. “How did you manage that?” I asked.
“It was just an accident,” she laughed. “I was all ready to leave the house when the doorbell rang and there was the lei. My dress was bright red – not a good color with the orchids. So, I went to my closet and chose this one,” she said. Wow! Just like that. (I have one dress in my closet. I console myself that it is basic black.)
Les and Kaye, 2013
That wasn’t the first time that Kaye impressed me with a wardrobe story. After Charles died, when she met Les Cowan, he literally swept her off her feet. He loved to dance and belonged to a dance club – or maybe to two or three – in Seattle. The two of them did more dancing during their courtship and early marriage than most of us do in a lifetime. “There’s a sort of unspoken dress code,” Kaye confided. “You try not to repeat an outfit too often.” ‘Outfit’ meant a dress that was swirly enough for dancing and sorta dressy-uppy. “So, have you had to do a lot of shopping?” I wondered. “Oh, no. I always manage to find something in the closet.” Something elegant no doubt.
At the Charles Mulvey Exhibit, 2010
Kaye was a loyal friend with strong opinions, and a great sense of humor. Once she and Roy Gustafson got into a terrible row over beach driving – she for, Roy against. During the ‘discussion,’ Kaye got so angry, she burst into tears, but neither of them would back down. The next morning, Kaye went to the Visitor’s Bureau where Roy was working, opened the door and threw in her hat. (I remember being surprised that they were both familiar with that old Western metaphor.) Roy laughed and they hugged and the war ended. Neither changed their mind of course, but Kaye said she wouldn’t sacrifice a friendship over a disagreement.
So many memories – Kaye the gracious hostess. Kaye the fabulous cook. Kaye the enthusiastic gardener. Kaye the manager of Charles’ paintings. Kaye with her strong faith and work for the church. And Kaye’s smile with that quizzical look she’d give that always made you feel she knew more than she was telling. Kaye with an ‘e’ – we’ll miss you forever.
I only knew Kaye, with ‘e’ about eight years, but in that time I think we became fast friends. Maybe because I was an admirer of Charles’ paintings, maybe because we both loved CPHM, maybe because we enjoyed lunching together. Whenever I asked her if she would like a glass of wine with lunch her answer was always the same – “I will if you will”. In my book she was ‘The First Lady of Long Beach Peninsula”. I’ll miss you Kaye and think of you every time I have a glass of wine with lunch, I know you will if I will.