After the death by suicide of my father, Wayne befriended me and my younger sister (we were 13 and 11) as a father-figure. When I was frightened by sleeping at home "without a man in the house" he concretely acknowledged my fears -- didn't diminish them. He said, "Here's something that might help," and handed me a baseball bat with a pink ribbon on it so I might feel braver at night with it tied on my bedpost. I have often remembered this as a touchstone -- an image of God coming in the form of a baseball bat from a dear friend.

The Oates' hosted me and my sister for a few days when my Mom was out of town. Pauline's pleasant hospitality provided the space for me to feel at home and loved. I've often thought what a sustaining force she must have been for Wayne.

She is the epitome of "the woman behind the man" -- so generous and not seeking for her own space in the limelight and yet maintaining a strong sense of self.