Lenora Darlene Vaughan (Lenny)
December 4, 1953 - July 27, 2018
My mom, Lenora Vaughan, passed away two summers ago in her home located on a small fishing island in Mexico. She was the fourth generation of Lenoras in her family-a name she saw as old fashioned. To all who knew her she was simply Lenny because she was anything but old fashioned. Looking around her island home you get a feeling for what she loved. From the murals on the outside that mysteriously have a listing on Trip Advisor, to the relics she used to adorn the interior with: bright tie dye curtains from her friend Melissa, fabrics and statues from Japan decorating the side tables, and hundreds of vibrant beaded art pieces from the Huichol Native Indians. Carefully thought out murals of Maya healers and warriors, painted by her friend Johnny, brighten the living room, and in the hallway you're greeted by a mermaid, painted during Mom's last weeks by her friend Jan. Mom's final wishes were to come back to her home and spend her last days in her own bed without any clothes on.
The night my mom decided to, as she put it, "break on through to the other side," there was a blood moon lunar eclipse, an astrological event she wouldn't have missed. When I was just two years old, Mom, Dad, and I went to China and lived in a teaching hospital, where Mom got a degree in acupuncture and Dad in therapeutic massage. "Lenny is the only healer I've seen who had sparks fly out of her hand," my god mother Robin says, "that woman was magic." And Mom didn't stop there: she became a Reiki Master and even an ordained Minster. I learned to write "mommy" the same day I learned to draw my first Reiki symbol. She studied topics from gardening to astrology to the healing power of crystals. If she was your house guest, you could expect to wake up to her watering your garden and pruning your aloe. Mom believed in reincarnation, and in her next life wanted to be a watermelon or some parsley. And no, she wasn't joking.
As that full moon burned Mom's favorite hue of red, the island also experienced a much more common occurrence-an Island-wide black out. Kai, my best friend and sister since age three joined me, and we lit candles. She fanned Mom down and cared for her as I got my first good nights sleep in months. It was like the sleepovers we had hundreds of times when we were little, but instead of waking up to Mom cooking bacon, I woke to Kai whispering in my ear "she's not in pain anymore."
Mom loved quiet nights like these, except for the heat. She enjoyed moments of meditative silence to recover from the bustle of her daily life. She loved live music, dancing, making friends, and throwing dinner parties. In the 80's she was married to Austin blues musician Stevie Ray Vaughan. She spent her nights at shows, in crowds of people, touring, or simply in bed listening to him tune his guitar. She started taking me out dancing when I was just four, which I enjoyed every moment of, until I passed out in her arms. Even decades before, she had snuck her little sisters Zana & Katrina in to the La Cucaracha night club in East Austin to hear some live music, and she often recalled fondly, "I held their hands and ran them across the street as fast as possible. We weren't in the safest part of town, after all."
I'll miss her sense of humor and her boisterous, infectious laugh. But when I'm sad or having a bad day, I can still hear her calming voice singing "Every little thing is gonna be all right."
Lenny's life has been celebrated in both Austin and Mexico, but the celebration never really ends. I would like to thank Dr. Greta Shorey for her constant care during Lenny's final days at home. In Lenny's honor, make yourself a "fuckin' fruit licuado" (that's what she called a smoothie), or donate to one of the following charities:
Health Alliance for Austin Musicians
Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center
Source: The Austin Chronicle Published on July 31, 2020
December 4, 1953 - July 27, 2018
My mom, Lenora Vaughan, passed away two summers ago in her home located on a small fishing island in Mexico. She was the fourth generation of Lenoras in her family-a name she saw as old fashioned. To all who knew her she was simply Lenny because she was anything but old fashioned. Looking around her island home you get a feeling for what she loved. From the murals on the outside that mysteriously have a listing on Trip Advisor, to the relics she used to adorn the interior with: bright tie dye curtains from her friend Melissa, fabrics and statues from Japan decorating the side tables, and hundreds of vibrant beaded art pieces from the Huichol Native Indians. Carefully thought out murals of Maya healers and warriors, painted by her friend Johnny, brighten the living room, and in the hallway you're greeted by a mermaid, painted during Mom's last weeks by her friend Jan. Mom's final wishes were to come back to her home and spend her last days in her own bed without any clothes on.
The night my mom decided to, as she put it, "break on through to the other side," there was a blood moon lunar eclipse, an astrological event she wouldn't have missed. When I was just two years old, Mom, Dad, and I went to China and lived in a teaching hospital, where Mom got a degree in acupuncture and Dad in therapeutic massage. "Lenny is the only healer I've seen who had sparks fly out of her hand," my god mother Robin says, "that woman was magic." And Mom didn't stop there: she became a Reiki Master and even an ordained Minster. I learned to write "mommy" the same day I learned to draw my first Reiki symbol. She studied topics from gardening to astrology to the healing power of crystals. If she was your house guest, you could expect to wake up to her watering your garden and pruning your aloe. Mom believed in reincarnation, and in her next life wanted to be a watermelon or some parsley. And no, she wasn't joking.
As that full moon burned Mom's favorite hue of red, the island also experienced a much more common occurrence-an Island-wide black out. Kai, my best friend and sister since age three joined me, and we lit candles. She fanned Mom down and cared for her as I got my first good nights sleep in months. It was like the sleepovers we had hundreds of times when we were little, but instead of waking up to Mom cooking bacon, I woke to Kai whispering in my ear "she's not in pain anymore."
Mom loved quiet nights like these, except for the heat. She enjoyed moments of meditative silence to recover from the bustle of her daily life. She loved live music, dancing, making friends, and throwing dinner parties. In the 80's she was married to Austin blues musician Stevie Ray Vaughan. She spent her nights at shows, in crowds of people, touring, or simply in bed listening to him tune his guitar. She started taking me out dancing when I was just four, which I enjoyed every moment of, until I passed out in her arms. Even decades before, she had snuck her little sisters Zana & Katrina in to the La Cucaracha night club in East Austin to hear some live music, and she often recalled fondly, "I held their hands and ran them across the street as fast as possible. We weren't in the safest part of town, after all."
I'll miss her sense of humor and her boisterous, infectious laugh. But when I'm sad or having a bad day, I can still hear her calming voice singing "Every little thing is gonna be all right."
Lenny's life has been celebrated in both Austin and Mexico, but the celebration never really ends. I would like to thank Dr. Greta Shorey for her constant care during Lenny's final days at home. In Lenny's honor, make yourself a "fuckin' fruit licuado" (that's what she called a smoothie), or donate to one of the following charities:
Health Alliance for Austin Musicians
Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center
Source: The Austin Chronicle Published on July 31, 2020
Lenora Darlene Vaughan (Lenny)
December 4, 1953 - July 27, 2018
My mom, Lenora Vaughan, passed away two summers ago in her home located on a small fishing island in Mexico. She was the fourth generation of Lenoras in her family-a name she saw as old fashioned. To all who knew her she was simply Lenny because she was anything but old fashioned. Looking around her island home you get a feeling for what she loved. From the murals on the outside that mysteriously have a listing on Trip Advisor, to the relics she used to adorn the interior with: bright tie dye curtains from her friend Melissa, fabrics and statues from Japan decorating the side tables, and hundreds of vibrant beaded art pieces from the Huichol Native Indians. Carefully thought out murals of Maya healers and warriors, painted by her friend Johnny, brighten the living room, and in the hallway you're greeted by a mermaid, painted during Mom's last weeks by her friend Jan. Mom's final wishes were to come back to her home and spend her last days in her own bed without any clothes on.
The night my mom decided to, as she put it, "break on through to the other side," there was a blood moon lunar eclipse, an astrological event she wouldn't have missed. When I was just two years old, Mom, Dad, and I went to China and lived in a teaching hospital, where Mom got a degree in acupuncture and Dad in therapeutic massage. "Lenny is the only healer I've seen who had sparks fly out of her hand," my god mother Robin says, "that woman was magic." And Mom didn't stop there: she became a Reiki Master and even an ordained Minster. I learned to write "mommy" the same day I learned to draw my first Reiki symbol. She studied topics from gardening to astrology to the healing power of crystals. If she was your house guest, you could expect to wake up to her watering your garden and pruning your aloe. Mom believed in reincarnation, and in her next life wanted to be a watermelon or some parsley. And no, she wasn't joking.
As that full moon burned Mom's favorite hue of red, the island also experienced a much more common occurrence-an Island-wide black out. Kai, my best friend and sister since age three joined me, and we lit candles. She fanned Mom down and cared for her as I got my first good nights sleep in months. It was like the sleepovers we had hundreds of times when we were little, but instead of waking up to Mom cooking bacon, I woke to Kai whispering in my ear "she's not in pain anymore."
Mom loved quiet nights like these, except for the heat. She enjoyed moments of meditative silence to recover from the bustle of her daily life. She loved live music, dancing, making friends, and throwing dinner parties. In the 80's she was married to Austin blues musician Stevie Ray Vaughan. She spent her nights at shows, in crowds of people, touring, or simply in bed listening to him tune his guitar. She started taking me out dancing when I was just four, which I enjoyed every moment of, until I passed out in her arms. Even decades before, she had snuck her little sisters Zana & Katrina in to the La Cucaracha night club in East Austin to hear some live music, and she often recalled fondly, "I held their hands and ran them across the street as fast as possible. We weren't in the safest part of town, after all."
I'll miss her sense of humor and her boisterous, infectious laugh. But when I'm sad or having a bad day, I can still hear her calming voice singing "Every little thing is gonna be all right."
Lenny's life has been celebrated in both Austin and Mexico, but the celebration never really ends. I would like to thank Dr. Greta Shorey for her constant care during Lenny's final days at home. In Lenny's honor, make yourself a "fuckin' fruit licuado" (that's what she called a smoothie), or donate to one of the following charities:
Health Alliance for Austin Musicians
Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center
Source: The Austin Chronicle Published on July 31, 2020
December 4, 1953 - July 27, 2018
My mom, Lenora Vaughan, passed away two summers ago in her home located on a small fishing island in Mexico. She was the fourth generation of Lenoras in her family-a name she saw as old fashioned. To all who knew her she was simply Lenny because she was anything but old fashioned. Looking around her island home you get a feeling for what she loved. From the murals on the outside that mysteriously have a listing on Trip Advisor, to the relics she used to adorn the interior with: bright tie dye curtains from her friend Melissa, fabrics and statues from Japan decorating the side tables, and hundreds of vibrant beaded art pieces from the Huichol Native Indians. Carefully thought out murals of Maya healers and warriors, painted by her friend Johnny, brighten the living room, and in the hallway you're greeted by a mermaid, painted during Mom's last weeks by her friend Jan. Mom's final wishes were to come back to her home and spend her last days in her own bed without any clothes on.
The night my mom decided to, as she put it, "break on through to the other side," there was a blood moon lunar eclipse, an astrological event she wouldn't have missed. When I was just two years old, Mom, Dad, and I went to China and lived in a teaching hospital, where Mom got a degree in acupuncture and Dad in therapeutic massage. "Lenny is the only healer I've seen who had sparks fly out of her hand," my god mother Robin says, "that woman was magic." And Mom didn't stop there: she became a Reiki Master and even an ordained Minster. I learned to write "mommy" the same day I learned to draw my first Reiki symbol. She studied topics from gardening to astrology to the healing power of crystals. If she was your house guest, you could expect to wake up to her watering your garden and pruning your aloe. Mom believed in reincarnation, and in her next life wanted to be a watermelon or some parsley. And no, she wasn't joking.
As that full moon burned Mom's favorite hue of red, the island also experienced a much more common occurrence-an Island-wide black out. Kai, my best friend and sister since age three joined me, and we lit candles. She fanned Mom down and cared for her as I got my first good nights sleep in months. It was like the sleepovers we had hundreds of times when we were little, but instead of waking up to Mom cooking bacon, I woke to Kai whispering in my ear "she's not in pain anymore."
Mom loved quiet nights like these, except for the heat. She enjoyed moments of meditative silence to recover from the bustle of her daily life. She loved live music, dancing, making friends, and throwing dinner parties. In the 80's she was married to Austin blues musician Stevie Ray Vaughan. She spent her nights at shows, in crowds of people, touring, or simply in bed listening to him tune his guitar. She started taking me out dancing when I was just four, which I enjoyed every moment of, until I passed out in her arms. Even decades before, she had snuck her little sisters Zana & Katrina in to the La Cucaracha night club in East Austin to hear some live music, and she often recalled fondly, "I held their hands and ran them across the street as fast as possible. We weren't in the safest part of town, after all."
I'll miss her sense of humor and her boisterous, infectious laugh. But when I'm sad or having a bad day, I can still hear her calming voice singing "Every little thing is gonna be all right."
Lenny's life has been celebrated in both Austin and Mexico, but the celebration never really ends. I would like to thank Dr. Greta Shorey for her constant care during Lenny's final days at home. In Lenny's honor, make yourself a "fuckin' fruit licuado" (that's what she called a smoothie), or donate to one of the following charities:
Health Alliance for Austin Musicians
Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center
Source: The Austin Chronicle Published on July 31, 2020
