Remembering the Light and Life of Virginia P. Gilmore

Yesterday, Bryan, Texas, lost a quiet but devoted ambassador of music, life, and a person who was cherished by her friends. Virginia Gilmore passed away a year and one month to the day that the light of her life, Eddie Gilmore, had crossed over to heaven. It’s hard to accept that she’s gone, as she was an extremely young 80 years old, but it also seemed not long enough. Her friends offered that Eddie needed her “there” more than others wanted her “here.”

Make no mistake. Virginia was not the kind of person you’d get to know quickly. She just wasn’t that way. She found her own way and time to reach out to you, and she was cautious before committing her friendship. But when she did, it was solid as a rock, and it was meant for a lifetime. If you consider all the people who knew her well, the average person in Bryan would have been her friend for at least 40 years. She loved a pillow in one of her friends’ homes that said, “Old friends are the best friends,” because that’s how she saw things.

When Eddie and Virginia met, they were both working at Rauscher Pierce and Refsnes, Inc. in Dallas, then arguably the largest brokerage firm in Texas. Eddie was Senior Vice President of the firm and on the board of the National Securities Clearing Corporation. He had a virtually photographic memory, for stocks and for statistics, and Virginia had a mind that met his and kept him interested and beyond. They were best friends and they both had great senses of humor, plus they had even more in common.

When they married on Sept. 3, 1971, Virginia was 33 and Eddie was 36. Both of them were old enough to know what they did and didn’t want in life, and together they built a life that they both could look back on and say, “I wouldn’t have scripted it any other way.” It’s been said that we live in a vacuum sometimes when we think we are able to control anything that happens in life.

We can make all the plans we want and then life happens. So, it’s fair to say that there were good and bad times in both their lives, but their time together was golden. There were no children, but they shared a love for Virginia’s dogs through the years, and their real family was made up of their lifetime friends with whom they shared the best of times together and when times were tough, they were right there for one another, without question. The chances I had to see that in action were voluminous, but they’re private, and will remain that way.

One of the things that struck me most about Virginia was how deeply she felt about the people in her life that she cared about, but she was short on words verbally. She showed it in her longtime loyalty to them. Though they had no children of their own, dear friends shared their time with their children, their children’s spouses, and their grandchildren to the point that they never felt childless. Both Virginia and Eddie adored their adoptive family, who grew up hearing her addressed as “Shorty.” It’s true Virginia was short compared to Eddie, but so was most of the room in any gathering. Not just everyone could call her that, but she smiled and rather beamed when she was addressed that way.

While her mom was alive, Virginia was a wonderful daughter and caretaker who was able to care for her mother without making her feel like she was being looked after. Losing her mom was quite a blow to Virginia but she absorbed the grief and just kept going. She hated going to funerals and it took everything she had to attend services for her mother, but she so loved her mother and those ladies of the church who loved her, that no one else knew how absolutely devastating it was for her to say goodbye—publicly.

Virginia was a private person by nature, but she knew almost everyone in town and managed to sustain many friendships of longstanding and was good about checking on people by phone. She maintained a childhood friendship with her best friend from at least high school days and that says a lot. She remembered others’ birthdays and was a sentimental creature. Her birthday was easy to remember, October 4th, which she giggled and said, “It’s 10-4!” and you always remembered that day ever after. Her feelings ran deep but she played her cards close.

Her career was vast and varied and included a wonderful time shopping at the Dallas Fashion Mart with a dear friend for the friend’s exclusive clothing boutique in Bryan “back in the day,” as they say. Ultimately, she cofounded an independent office supply business in Bryan with another dear friend, and she was actually scheduled to go in to work (she and her business partner rotating taking every “other” Friday off) on the day she passed away. You know she just hated to miss that day of work.

Just as Virginia knew how to work, she knew how to play too, and her favorite pastime was music, live music, and dancing to live music, any or all of those choices, thank you very much. They went to many of the early OPAS Galas, the earliest of the American Heart Association’s first Heart Rock Café event with the "Back to the 50s" theme (Note: Virginia brought her favorite picture of Elvis), Junior League galas and more. They loved supporting The Boys & Girls Club of Bryan with heartfelt devotion.

Eddie and Virginia on the dance floor were clearly the most fun dancers to watch; everyone always thought of them that way. Virtually all their close friends were avid and accomplished dancers, though. It didn't matter whether it was country-western music, rock 'n roll, jitterbug, swing, you name it! And so many of their years together were dear couples’ friends together enjoying trips all over the country. Reminiscing over the early days of their young lives together was often a part of the good times. Shared vacations, trips to see the changing of the leaves, many visits to the best in California’s wine country and more filled their dockets.

Beloved lifetime friends in Bryan were so devoted to Virginia, particularly during Eddie’s final days and for the thirteen months after his passing. She grieved privately for Eddie, but you couldn’t ask for more loving, caring friends to see to her every need. Just a month ago, two precious friends had made plans well in advance and spent “Eddie’s Day” with her and you know that had to be one of the sweetest gifts she’d ever received in her life.

Times just spent with people she loved were her favorite, favored days. She could appreciate the perfection of a Nehi Grape soda and looked around for weeks until she found a four-pack to gift a friend with because, in their early days together, they’d enjoyed them together. She enjoyed visiting small out-of-the-way shops and finding anything that was unique. She and Eddie were good about exploring restaurants and they were always telling you about the newest places to go, because they’d been among the first to try them out.

They loved being able to live most of their final years in a dream home they custom built on a magnificent golf estates location, but home is where the heart is, and when Eddie could no longer live independently at home, Virginia didn’t hesitate for a moment in leaving that behind, and she wisely chose a location literally two minutes away from two of her dearest friends of the heart. It’s the gifts of time and thoughtfulness that Virginia gave to others and received from them that will most be remembered.

Learning from two precious people today of her passing and knowing her absolute disdain at, and refusal to, being lifted up by name in a public notice of having transitioned to her heavenly reward, I risk her wrath at even writing a word about her, but somehow right now, I just don’t care. If I’m fortunate enough to one day make it to where she is now, with her Eddie, she can read me the riot act then.

But after the tears had dried, what made me smile was the thought of how she loved Elvis, his music, and the Mississippi Blues so very much. Among her favorite songs of all time, though, wasn’t really one of Elvis’s songs. It was by electric blues man, Jimmy Reed. Wherever they were out dancing to live music, or if there was a jukebox in the corner, Eddie Gilmore never failed to make sure that his Virginia heard her favorite song: “Big Boss Man.”

So, as the sun went down tonight on the first day without Virginia in it, I’m reminded that life is short, that the age of 80 is a long and good life to reach, and that the world can turn against you, the planets of Mars and Mercury can turn retrograde and turn your world of calm into a celestial hurricane, and nothing is going as you once thought it would.

But when you have friends, good friends who love you and care for, and about you, throughout the worst days of your life, who are front and center with you to celebrate the best days of your life, and you have faith in the higher power who gave life and the promise of life beyond this one to all, then you have everything in life that you could ever ask for. And all is truly right with the world.

For all those fortunate enough to know her, for however long or however well, Virginia Gilmore’s life meant knowing a truly good person with a heart of gold and enjoying life just a little bit more, because she was there in it. Virginia was right—Old friends are the best friends.

I had a front-row seat to watch and see those whom she considered as such. I wasn’t in that group, those who called her “Shorty,” but to be sure, I saw what a blessing they were to her, and she to them. I did learn much from her example, as I went forth and continued to build my extended family of friends of love, faith, care, and compassion, remembering every good time and happy, funny moment shared with those she loved best. She was a good teacher by example, that Virginia Gilmore.

Let the music of heaven play on now, and may you have a dance floor that is as wide as an ocean and a band that never quits playing. Well done, thou good and faithful servant.

“Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow.” ~~Jeremiah 31:13

Remembering Eddie Gilmore

Eddie, at Christmas 2012, with dear friends.

It had been at least 5 years since I’d seen Edward Charles Gilmore, best known as “Eddie” to his wide array of friends in Bryan-College Station, but learning of his passing this morning on a friend’s Facebook post generated a few memories from over 20 years of seeing this larger-than-life truly good soul at the top of his game, living life large. With his beautiful head of white hair and trimmed white moustache, I had to smile at the impression he left on all those around him. He was a tailored, dapper gentleman, no matter what the occasion.

The first thing you saw about this amazing man was the imposing figure he posed; he was tall, built like a trim offensive lineman, and he walked fast whenever he was headed somewhere. The second thing you would likely see was that he was usually in the company of his beloved wife, Virginia, the genuine light of his life. One family nickname for her is ‘Shorty,’ but to be fair, standing next to Eddie, everyone is short.

Eddie and Virginia were best friends first before they were married, and in all the years I was around them, they spoke to one another with such great regard, respect, and just a fun little bit of good-natured teasing, but never a cross word. Virginia was the go-power that made Eddie able to be the social butterfly he was and that they were. This devoted couple loved music, dancing, sports, and their oldest and dearest friends. For the last three decades of his life, they were very much at home in Bryan, Texas. Others who knew him far better can cite his early career years and his love for Texas A&M, even though he graduated from another school.

In the 1970s and 1980s, if memory serves, Eddie had been a mover and shaker in the financial world of stocks and bonds in the Dallas area, and Virginia had worked for the same firm. Both were brilliant with numbers. Eddie’s razor-sharp memory was one of the most amazing things about this man.

To know Eddie means you know that he lived and breathed sports, 24/7. ESPN should have called him if they needed a fact-checker. In fact, there were a few times he’d talk to the TV, explaining how they should have known better than what they were saying, which was fun to watch when a gathering of friends would enjoy a sporting event together.

Eddie loved watching all the “NCIS” episodes when USA Network ran marathon viewing days during his retirement years. It didn’t matter how many times he’d seen them before, he’d willingly watch them again and again. He could probably recite all the dialog by heart, with his phenomenal memory.

I remember when, after years of trying, I’d finally made it past the preliminary rounds of the competition to be a contestant on “Who Wants To Be a Millionaire?” I was headed to New York City to try out at ABC Studios there and in the event I made it past the semifinal round, I’d already planned ahead and asked Eddie to be my phone-a-friend should there be a sports question that I couldn’t answer. Between Eddie and Gene Joyce, the answer to any sports question ever considered could be answered right here in the Brazos Valley.

Eddie was absolutely thrilled that I’d asked him to be of counsel for me, and I felt confident that I’d be hauling back a ton of money if my big question revolved around sports! If only I’d been able to make it past the semifinals. A dear friend had gone with me to the audition to keep me company, and as we stood in line to get into the testing area, we saw how far back the competition stretched around the block for the chance to win.

So, my friend and I both got to take the test, a nice surprise; after it was over we marveled at the obscurity of some of the questions! Meaning, no we didn’t make the cut, ha. Eddie probably would have been the one to know all the answers to the entirely baffling questions on the written quiz, but not me. Anyway, for a long time afterwards, I acknowledged him by my greeting him with: “There’s my phone-a-friend!” He just beamed.

Eddie was a real savant when it came to sports and statistics. Some people are great with key knowledge of one sport, such as baseball. They will know everything about their favorite team or the sport as a whole. But Eddie had the entire sports gamut covered—baseball, basketball, football, you name it. He rooted for the Aggies and grumbled (just like a true Ag) if they weren’t playing up to their potential. His memory was phenomenal, matched only by his passion for life.

His razor-sharp wit also matched his memory during the best days of his life. He loved to watch all the major horse races on television and whenever he had the chance to visit horse racing tracks with friends during the height of racing season, he was front and center. One thing that made him so proud was when his dear friend named a thoroughbred race horse in his honor.

The other thing Eddie loved, as much as he loved Virginia, was something they loved together—great live music and dancing to it. When I say, “good dancers,” I’m not exaggerating. It was like watching Bryan-College Station’s version of Fred and Ginger. Country-western, their beloved 50s doo-wop music, no matter the genre, they glided around a dance floor with the greatest of ease. That was always so wonderful to see—like a master class in “how it’s done.” Then when they weren’t dancing, they were listening.

Locally, Eddie and Virginia were first to arrive and last to leave when live music of their choice was happening in town. One of their favorite musicians was pianist D.A. McDowell, and if he was at Christopher’s, they were too, and there was a mutual admiration society there. Other local bands knew the Gilmores as part of their supporters and encouragers of long-standing. They’d seen great performers who had launched their careers here before leaving town for bright lights and record deals.

The couple loved jazz and especially going to hear bands plays the blues. Eddie would always announce that Virginia’s favorite song was Jimmy Reed’s “Big Boss Man,” and he’d make sure whatever band was performing in a club or other venue, that they played it for her if they took requests. That was a precious memory for sure. Another was Eddie’s love of lyrics, and he knew them all, which meant you might also find him singing a chorus of “Cherry Pie” with two other friends, on special occasions like a special birthday celebration for a friend who shared his June 24th birthday. It’s poignant that he “waited” to turn 82 before letting go the good fight.

The couple traveled extensively with dear friends over several decades, coast-to-coast, on land, air, and even by the sea. More recently, there was the fun of cherished annual trips to “wine country” in Napa Valley, California with friends and Eddie brought prized “souvenirs” back home and enjoyed the process of selecting favorites.

Golf was another of Eddie’s loves. First, he played regularly at Briarcrest Country Club, and then when beautiful Miramont Country Club was built, Eddie and his cart could be found as soon as the greens were open. He loved that course in particular. I believe he even played at St. Andrew’s in Scotland at least once.

The core travel group included four musketeers among the men and their beloved spouses and what was so nice to see was how well they got along for decades, an accomplishment of its own accord. Ultimately, at one point, a few years back, Eddie had a health challenge that separated him from more frequent contact with his dear friends, but as I learned recently, they didn’t separate from him.

When he was in his prime here as an investment broker, Eddie balanced work, family time, friends, and fun in a very special way. He made time for you if you needed to talk, and he was a loyal friend who could maintain a confidence. His friends and Virginia were his family and he cherished each one of them like they were precious jewels. He also cared very deeply about children. One of Eddie’s favorite local charities with whom he was a very active volunteer was the Boys and Girls Club of Bryan.

He was an active participant and volunteer and he was honored in his lifetime for his service to this outstanding local organization. He maintained memberships in other organizations as well (if memory serves, he was a proponent of the downtown Bryan boxing club), but he was pretty private about his volunteering. He had a heart the size of Texas, though, even though he tried to keep that fact to himself. You could just tell that about him.

In his final years, Eddie struggled with memory issues, and yet, his dearest friends visited him faithfully and helped him remember and filled in the gaps that they could, for as long as the memory would hold the facts. In recent years, I didn’t have occasion to see him, but I understand from one closest to him that his years of faithful friendship to others were the best investments he’d ever made in his life, as they were there faithfully with him and for him.

In life that’s really all anyone can ask for, to be remembered well, even if you can’t recall it. It’s knowing who your real friends are, when the chips are down, and to know they’re the ones who won’t give up on you, even if you have lost the sense of who you are, or who you used to be. In the family room of the home of one of Eddie’s best friends is a pillow embroidered with the phrase “Old friends are the best friends.” I believe this to be true.

When the day and time comes that we can no longer be ourselves, or recall the most important parts of our lives, we rely on those friends and loved ones who comprise the fabric of our lives, who will forever be our memory for us. They’ll help us remember when. They’ll have scrapbooks full of pictures and go over them with us, and help us remember who we were and who we are. They’ll play the songs we love, sing the words to us and with us and for us. Most importantly of all, they’ll grace us with their presence, simply being there with us.

They pray for us in good times and in bad. And that, undoubtedly leads to the greatest gift that one friend can give another—the gift of time. Eddie Gilmore gave his generously to his friends, always, unconditionally. His love for Virginia was unceasing and remains timelessly intact. He will always be there to watch out for her, so she need not fear a thing.

Godspeed, Eddie, and please scope out the best music venues for the rest of us, will you? We’re counting on you to save the best table for us. And there, the bands will play on, where the music and the dancing never ends, where love—like good music—overflows. The song written by your life here on Earth will play on forever, in the minds and hearts of all who were fortunate enough to know you.

Edward C. Gilmore

June 24, 1935 – June 27, 2017