Saying Goodbye To My Best Friend – Anne Hurley Obot

Last Wednesday February thirteenth, my very best friend in the world, my BFF, my Anne, suffered an aneurysm and died. She left behind a loving husband, a precious three year old son, an incredibly loving family of Hurleys, and a slew of amazing friends from around the globe. I’ve known Anne for thirty years since we were classmates at Westlake High School. We used to say we were hetero life partners and even had to convince our neighbors when we lived together that we weren’t gay. We loved each other that much. She was beautiful, she was a ham. She stole Carrie Fisher’s pillow case on a flight and gave it to me for my birthday.

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We hiked Half Dome in Yosemite on our birthdays one September. We stayed up a bit late the night before polishing off some serious wine, and celebrated afterwards with more wine, and pizza.

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Huey del Fuego

These days, Dad’s wardrobe consists solely of double denim and flimsy white tennis shoes, but in 1984, after watching Jack Nicholson in Prizzi’s Honor, he sported pink and yellow blazers. Dad had a museum of cowboy boots – about 20 pairs ranging in color and animal hide, and he liked big gold rings and chains, and wore a gold bull around his neck.

But behind the curtain of Dad’s eccentricity, was a loving father, the evolution of a man who grew up in Hoboken projects, unattended by his mother, while his father spent his life in a sanitarium. He was one of nine children, but only kept in touch with one sister and a long-lost brother his mother had sold to neighbors.

Family meant everything to Dad. He enrolled my sister and me in an expensive Catholic school to ensure a good education, and went to church with Mom every Sunday, not because he was religious, but because it made Mom happy.

Dad ran a tight ship at home, and there were severe consequences for bad behavior. Once when I was sixteen, I snuck out of the house wearing a leopard-print tank top and leather miniskirt and hit a night club in Santa Monica, where I drank, danced and smoked cigarettes.

The next morning, Dad approached me, “Did you wear that outfit after your mother and I told you not to?” I loved him too much to lie. He walked away with disappointment in his eyes. It turned out his adult entertainment attorney had spotted me at the club. Two days later Dad sold my car and grounded me for six months.

In contrast to my flashy father was his business partner Mac whose steroidal frame stood 6’7″. Mac and Dad met while on the California Highway Patrol. Dad quit the force after a nasty motorcycle accident, and Mac was fired for accepting bribes. Later on, Mac brought Dad in as a partner to run his strip clubs in Los Angeles.

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A Special Call Out to Huey del Fuego, R.I.P. Buddy.

Hello friends!  As my first post, I’d like to do a callout to Huey, my feathered life partner who died last year from cancer.  Miss you bud.

Dad bought Huey from Big Wally at the Jet Strip in 1984.  It took him a bit to warm up to me initially, but after a few months, we were fast friends.

Things Huey loved:

  • Popcorn, ice cream, pizza, hot dogs, celery and peanuts
  • Mimicking my laugh
  • Brushing his beak with his own tooth brush and mint toothpaste
  • Taking a shower with me
  • Walks in Central Park, where he’d say “hello” and “goodbye” to passers-by
  • Blonds
  • My makeup brushes
  • Birdbaths with the vaccuum on

Things Huey didn’t like so much:

  • Men
  • Birdseed
  • Dental floss
  • Being home alone
  • Skateboards
  • Loud music