ESSAY: Phyl Has Left the Building!

Phyllis Daleske, affectionately known as Phyl, has taken her final bow. She left the stage with dignity and grace, leaving her loyal fans wanting more… but there was no encore.

Now we only have sweet memories of a vibrant woman who lived her life to the fullest.

I write this article as a friend, not as a reporter. This essay is a tribute to Phyl and not meant to be a news story. The news stories, the obituary, the solemn memorials will come soon enough. At this moment I can only tip my hat to a beloved, cantankerous force-of-nature that was a well known presence in our community.

Phyl was a tireless volunteer and was on countless boards and committees throughout the years. I volunteered with her at Loaves & Fishes a few times, but Phyl made it a part of her life. The rest of the time she was on the move. I don’t know if I’d call her a social butterfly, but she seemed to appear out of thin air at every worthwhile community event.

Madam Daleske was a noble crusader. Some would probably say that she fought windmills, that her battles were mundane, perhaps trivial. But in the final analysis, she was fighting for what she saw as a better Pagosa Springs and a more genteel way of life.

Her fiery Letters to the Editor were legendary. She thought that the coming of a big-box store was the beginning of the end of life as we knew it. She was worried that the small Mom and Pop stores could not compete with the Walmarts of the world and sooner or later would be forced to shut down. That didn’t happen to the degree she predicted, but what she was really afraid of was Pagosa losing its small town charm and turning into another poorly planned, overpopulated, mountain tourist trap – a mecca for unscrupulous developers. She most likely got that right. We’ll see…

She hated litter, loud mouths, wing nuts, water wasters, bad drivers, bad manners, and music played a little too loudly. (I personally know first hand about that last item.) Several times over the years she approached me at a club or restaurant with that stern, take-no-prisoners glare, pointing at her watch: “DC! The paper said the band was starting at nine o’clock. It’s five after! Let’s go!”

When the music commenced – after her prerequisite glass of wine – she’d hit the dance floor (whether there was one or not) and lose herself in the songs. It was a joyful, carefree little ballet, never with the rest of the troop, usually by her lonesome. She seemed to live for those moments and anyone watching her was filled with delight. She was a sight to behold!

When I was an active member of the Pagosa Unitarian Universalist Fellowship (PUUF!) Phyl was the combination sergeant-at-arms/den mother. I enjoyed the spiritual camaraderie, the lovely music performed weekly by the late John Graves, and dear Phyl was a part of the experience. Of course, she had shushed me a few times for talking over long-winded speakers. I probably deserved it.

(Come to think of it, she reminds me of Miss Matheny, my stern Sunday School teacher who made me sit in the corner all the time. I guess it takes a village to raise a child like me.)

Not long ago, Phyl and other UU volunteers were winterizing Ann Graves’ yard. After the job was completed, Phyl got into her car and, instead of using the turnaround, decided to fearlessly back down the long, sloping driveway.  Ann and the others tried frantically to stop her, but she ignored them.  She easily backed down the drive and out into the street, then sped off without a care in the world.

Incidentally, Phyl, a long time friend of John and Ann Graves, was instrumental in their decision to move from Missouri to Pagosa Springs.  Had it not been for Madam Daleske, I would not have had the pleasure of playing drums for John all those glorious years.

Recently, Phyl had been suffering from pneumonia and finally ended up at a hospital in Alamosa in critical condition. Her two daughters, one from New York and the other from Oregon were at her side. The nurses commented later that they had never witnessed such a dignified passing. She had talked cheerfully and even joked up to the last moment – and then simply closed her eyes.

The Phyl Daleske show played for 96 years, yet we will miss her dearly.

Thanks for the memories, sweet lady!