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Wendy America Hester

Wendy Hester Obituary

Hester, Wendy America
July 22, 1964 - August 14, 2004 Wendy ended her life at home in Los Angeles after a long and courageous battle with depression and chronic migraines. She grew up in Darien, Connecticut and graduated from Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, NY in 1986. After a stint in journalism, she received her masters and pursued a PhD in comparative literature (ABD) at UC Irvine in California where she also taught. Her studies also took her to Paris and Bologna, Italy. She eventually abandoned academia and established herself as a designer in the Los Angeles film industry. She loved irony, Elvis, art, and gardening. She is survived by her dogs, Daisy and Homer; her father, Harris Hester and stepmother, Betsy of Connecticut; sister, Maura Hersom of New York, brother, Harris Hester III of Maryland, mother, D'Juanna Hester of Virginia, and many, many friends. She will be missed terribly by all. Services will be held Wednesday, Aug. 18, 4 p.m., at St. James Church, 3903 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles. In lieu of flowers, please send donations to the Pasadena Humane Society (www.phsspca.org) or the Delta Society of Orange County (www.deltasociety.org).

To plant trees in memory, please visit the Sympathy Store.

Published by Los Angeles Times on Aug. 18, 2004.

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Heather Powers

September 18, 2004

Memorial for Wendy

Naomi Silver, Paul Morsink and Heather Powers

posted by request of Dee

Wendy’s Garden

Picture this: you’re driving home from work—and you’ve had a long day—and you turn a corner and roll past a pile of concrete fragments—rubble, basically—on the side of the road. Do your eyes light up? Do you pull over? Do you pull over and in the LA sun start hefting those heavy concrete slabs into the back of your station wagon? (I didn’t think so.) Well, Wendy did. She could see a pile of rubble—or an unprepossessing plant, or some old wine barrels—and she could imagine a future for them, see a garden of shady corners and complementary colors and soothing scents … and curving sunken paths of jigsawed concrete slabs filled in with pebbles. She knew her stuff too—knew about drainage, about sick and healthy trees, about planting clippings … and so much more. She also knew how to rope friends into helping out … Not that one ended up noticing the rope hardly at all. With Wendy the work was fun and purposeful—digging, or planting, or edging, or pruning—you felt her vision of how it all should turn out; it was something well crafted and beautiful in its way, and long before the work was done, long before you called it a day and sat with Wendy on her patio with a cup of tea (always served on a tray!) to admire your work, you were glad—very glad—to be part of it.

Wendy had a remarkable talent for seeing coolness in the desert, nuances of color in the seemingly drab, and beauty in what others saw as worthless

Memories of Wendy

Dear Wendy—

You’ve been in Naomi and Paul's lives—amazingly—for 14 years, since we first met in 1990 at our Comparative Literature general orientation meeting down at UC Irvine. In that time you’ve been such a loyal and thoughtful friend to us, and we remember so many wonderful things about you:

• We remember the love and generosity you lavished on your friends.

By way of example: When Paul and Naomi got married six years ago, and eloped to Napa Valley, we excitedly shared with Wendy our plans to have our wedding dinner at the French Laundry restaurant. And as we learned later, just after we left, Wendy secretly called the restaurant—on one of her crazy busy workdays driving all over Los Angeles, I should add, when it can take well over an hour on redial to get through to the reservationist—and she arranged to surprise us with a perfect bottle of champagne at our table. But the beauty of her gift wasn’t only in the champagne itself, but also in alerting the restaurant staff and kitchen to our occasion, so that they celebrated with us throughout the meal. And to top it off, when we returned to L.A., Wendy organized and hosted—along with Arielle Read—a gorgeous wedding reception for us in her garden—one of many such gatherings and celebrations she hosted for her friends over the years.

One of the happiest times in Heather’s life was when she lived in Laguna Beach with Wendy. We shared a house for several years with another friend, Helen Pappa. It is a testament to how beloved Wendy was by her friends that a drawing she made of the house we lived in in Laguna Beach for Helen’s 30th birthday showed up this summer, ten years later, in Greece. Helen’s husband had had the drawing copied onto her 40th birthday cake. A sketch Wendy dashed off in less than 5 minutes, while I watched in amazement, was chosen by Helen’s husband as the perfect emblem of his wife’s happiest memories.

• We remember the love and artistry you put into your garden—and other people’s gardens, too.

• We remember your joy and confidence in collecting and arranging, and in seeking the perfect object.

• We remember your genius for turning ordinary materials into things of beauty.

• We remember the intellectual love and curiosity that took you to France and Italy, and fueled your dissertation work on the semiotics of collecting.

Wendy traveled closer to home, too, deep into the archives at the Getty research center, where she read the original documents and catalogs of curiosities left by 17th-century Italian collectors. I remember the interest generated by Wendy’s research when she presented it at a local conference—and as I admired the elegance of her argument about Marx, collecting, and speculative value, I also remember admiring (and this one is not an intellectual memory) the beautiful way the light from the window illuminated the curve of Wendy’s cheek and jaw, making her look like a figure out of a Botticelli painting. And I remember how amused and pleased Wendy was when I told her of this impression afterwards.

• We remember the creativity and stamina you put into your work on commercials and films.

Heather and her husband Michael often talk about how impressed and happy we were for Wendy when her career in decorating for television and film took off. We had moved to rural Pennsylvania for a teaching job, and on our first visit back to Los Angeles we barely recognized the confident woman in the back of our rental car with the snappy shades, the Palm pilot, and the ever-ringing cell phone. But Wendy never let this new, glamourous life go to her head. She told us many hilarious stories about how her work kept her on her toes. During her first television job she wasn’t sure where to go or what to do. When someone asked what she was doing there she said, “I’m swing” because she had heard the term before. She didn’t know why she got such a surprised look until she figured out that “swing” referred to the large, burly men who did all the heavy lifting on set.

• We remember the love and loyalty you showed your dogs, Daisy and Homer, and the joy with which you made them part of your life.

• We remember the devotion and seriousness you put into helping run the Silverlake Coop, into Homer’s work as a certified therapy dog, and more recently into starting training programs for new therapy dogs.

Wendy was so pleased when—after acing an intensive training regimen and battery of tests—Homer received his very own green and black Delta Society dog vest to wear on his visits with Wendy to Alzheimer’s patients and children’s group homes. And, as an example of Wendy’s humor, Naomi remembers how tickled she was when she figured out that the baffling pocket on the back of Homer’s vest could only have been meant to hold his cell phone.

• Wendy, we remember your hunger for sincere and supportive relationships—and your sadness when life fell short.

• We remember the courage and persistence with which you fought your migraines and your depression.

Two years ago, Heather and Michael had a son. And when we were planning what to name him, we made list after list, and did all the usual wrangling that couples generally do in these situations. But we immediately agreed on his middle name. Our son’s name is Henry America Powers. And while the “America” drives our parents crazy, we felt, and feel now more than ever, that the spirit of creativity, playfulness, and downright defiance of the norm that Wendy showed when she invented this name for herself is a wonderful legacy.

• We remember your burbling laugh—a laugh we heard much too seldom of late, but which therefore felt like a flower opening, quietly miraculous and sincere.

• We remember all these things about you, Wendy, and we hate the fact that someone who gave so much and so generously to her world is no longer with us in ours.

• Let us all remember what made Wendy so amazing. Her brilliance. Her warmth. Her originality. Those who were blessed to know her will keep her alive in our hears forever.

Sue Ader

September 6, 2004

Wendy- I did not know you, but I know and love and cherish your Mom. May you be at peace and may your memory be a source of peace and comfort to your family and friends. "Friendship multiplies our joys and divides our griefs"

Cheri Kirwan

September 2, 2004

Wendy,

May you rest in peace and love.

Cheri

friend to Dee and mother to one

Cassie Elliot

September 1, 2004

I had not seen Wendy since we graduated from Sarah Lawrence. But, while there, we were good friends. It makes me terribly sad to know that such an incredibly bright, viciously funny and stunningly big-hearted person is no longer walking this earth.

My thoughts, and prayers, go out to her family.

Cassie

Jean De Lorenzo

August 26, 2004

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

Tennyson

Joe and Jean De Lorenzo

Maura Hersom

August 26, 2004

There will be an additional, larger service for Wendy on Friday, Sept. 10 at 11am at St. Luke's Episcopal Church, 1882 Boston Post Road (Rte 1), Darien, CT 06820. Following the service there will be a reception at the Tokeneke Club, also in Darien, to celebrate Wendy's life. All are welcome at both the service and the reception.

Please contact me if there are any questions, Wendy's sister, Maura

Rachel Warady Mazor

August 24, 2004

Although I did not know Wendy, I know and love her mother who has been a great influence and friend to me and my family. We extend our deepest sympathy to all of you in your time of grief.

DJuanna Hester

August 23, 2004

This poem will be read at Wendy's Memorial Service 8/28/04 6 PM at the United Church of Rowayton. She sang in the youth choir--even having a solo to our family's amazement.

When I come to the end of the day

And the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom-filled room.

Why cry for a soul set free--miss me a little

But not too long and not with your head bowed low.

Remember the love we once shared--miss me but let me go.

For this journey we must all take

And each must go alone.

It's all part of the Maker's plan,

a step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick of heart

go to the friends we know

and bury your sorrows in doing good deeds

--Miss me but let me go.

Source Unknown

This poem was read at Alan Brasher's service and who knew Wendy and is buried in the Memorial Garden.

Thank you all for the messages you have sent. They are appreciated.

Wendy's mother.

Lane Carroll

August 19, 2004

Wendy, you were loved and thought of often by all of us. I hope now you are sitting by the right hand of God with His Son Jesus. One day we will all be together again. Your Aunt Lane.

Heather Powers

August 18, 2004

I never met Wendy's father or sister, but she talked of you often. I thought you might like to know that my two-year-old son, Henry America Powers, is named in part after Wendy. She was greatly loved by her friends.

Jay Watson

August 18, 2004

Rest in Peace Wendy

Our heart and prayers go out to the Family. It is sad that it takes such a tragedy for us to communicate again.

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