03/20/2024
Photo: My sister Debbie in her signature flight suit on Memorial Day Weekend in 1986 at “Hands Across America”
Happy birthday to my dear sister Deborah Brown --who is still very alive in my mind.
Below is a speedy timeline of Debbie —my sibling who lived life in the fast lane.
Highlights:
Birth: March 20, 1951 in Hawthorne CA
1954 Early actions demonstrate that Debbie is energetic, even in her sleep. Three-year-old Debbie knocks on the neighbor’s door at 2 AM, chats her up, and asks if she can sleep over. Neighbor Kay Beatty tucks her in, then calls mom early the next morning and asks if she is missing anything. Debbie does not remember how she got there. Diagnosis: somnambulant—many of her unscripted episodes continue throughout her life. But none as cute as the first.
Spring 1967: My sis gets her driver’s license and makes her presence known on Van Nuys Blvd. She burns rubber from a stop at a green light in Mom’s 1965 Buick Electra. She whips that 4-carb 325 horsepower engine into low, as a blast of air tosses her long thick hair horizontal. She then explains —and demonstrates—to her 14-year-old brother what it means to fishtail. This is the time in life she discovers independence. And I discover what a cool sister I have, but at the same time I encounter a case of the nerves.
1968: More showmanship on the Blvd, but this time in her very own fire-engine red 64 Olds F85 — complete with hanging red felt balls she glued along the perimeter of the headliner. I ride in the back seat while Donovan’s “Hurly Gurly Man” and “Age of Aquarius” blasts on her clunky 8-track, and am told to duck when guys are cruising in the adjacent lane. I oblige, and find it pretty exciting.
1978- 1984: In Loz Feliz, while painting houses, and refinishing hardwood floors for a living, she also becomes the very first aerobics instructor at Studio A Dance. Her fast-moving class is aptly named “Agressive Aerobics” No one can keep up as she tosses her body about the Go-Go’s “we’ve Got The Beat, and songs of the like. During this era Deb lives briefly with Terrance and myself and then gets her own apartment in our complex. I have a vivid memory of approaching the building in my gray and white striped –sagging--leg warmers looking up to her 2nd floor apartment where she leans out the window. It’s here we have some of our best conversations (and laughs) ever, while she downs a budweiser, with lime.
In the early 90s Debbie moves up to Big Bear, CA with her girlfriend Debby Williams for a more genteel life. So we think. We refer to these two as the “Double-Debs” At this high elevation —my sibling discovers downhill skiing, and is once again on the fast track. Whoosh! She’s so proficient that Deb begins teaching skiing to kids. While on this speed run of life, she has a torrid affair outside of her relationship —and gets booted out of the house, and scurries downhill from this resort town.
Winnebago Days: Debbie opts for a home on wheels and buys a 30 footer. Seems appropriate –free spirit and all. No roots. But then there’s the maiden voyage, and the speed thing. . Heading north in I-5, once again flying free and racing up the grapevine she whips the trannie into low, floors it and …….. burns out the engine, and is promptly towed back to LA for a rebuild. The next trip she adheres to the speed limit and eventually ends up landing the beast in a field in the Santa Cruz mountains. However, eventually an array of varmints decide to room and board in these cozy quarters.
Desert Days: Debbie eventually abandons the menagerie on-wheels, and ends up moving to the Arizona desert, and in with our mom. Here, she buys herself a peppy truck. A daily routine: she forges along the banks of the Colorado River leaving clouds of dust behind while giving her Jack Russell terrier Lilly “exercise” running beside the revving truck. Fast truck, fast dog. In 2002 I take my new partner Kevin to meet my mother and sister. Directly following meet and greet, Debbie offers Kevin a ride down by the river. I stay with mom. When he joins Deb and Lilly he expects a scenic leisurely trip. Instead it’s Lilly’s dog run time. I’ll never forget Kev’s return expression and that un-melodic moan.
On that note. I’ll end this race down memory lane. Happy Birthday Deborah Francis Brown.
