‘Mom’ missed by MAMA

Editor's note: The following column was written by Jim Hamilton, the husband of the late Dee Hamilton, for whom the Missouri Press Advertising and Marketing Executives' Dee Hamilton Sales Pro Award is named. The award was named for Hamilton for her contributions to the newspaper industry and advertising sales.

I have long known of the respect and affection Dee has enjoyed among her peers in the Missouri Advertising Managers Association (MAMA).

Both were openly manifested in her election to this board of directors and subsequent election as president of the association for 1992-93. Yet, those offices were only a token reflection of the close friendships developed among kindred souls from throughout the state.

I was reminded last week how deeply many of those folks care for Dee. It was at the association’s fall meeting in Jefferson City that I saw the hurt in their eyes and sensed the compassion in their voices as one after another asked about Dee.

Each was sincere, and each regretted she could not be there. Without Dee, the circle was broken. There was an empty chair not only at the directors’ table, but in that circle of friends who shared much more than common careers.

Dee wanted to be there. They had a past president’s plaque to give her. Most of all, though, she just wanted to be among the people with whom she has shared the best of times and the worst of times.

There is, in this intimate circle, hearts broken by deaths of children, by wrecked marriages, and ravaged by personal tragedies. Yet, there is in this same circle, spirits mended by friendship, puzzles of lives pieced together by the understanding words of others.

Above all that, however, are the memories of high times at the ad meetings. I seldom went with Dee to these semi-annual gatherings. I didn’t want to crimp her style. She had more fun without me.

I, for example, would never have borrowed a golf cart to wheel around in at a Lake Ozark complex. Dee did. Figured that if they didn’t want hotel guests to use it, they shouldn’t have left the keys in it.

I doubt it’s a coincidence that this year’s meeting was among the most sedate on record, and that Dee wasn’t there. Some call the escapades of Dee and her and cohorts from Branson and Joplin — the Three Mouseketeers — the stuff of convention legend. Though certainly innocent fun, rather than felonious foolishness, they were the foundation for tales best improved with repeated tellings.

Dee hasn’t made an ad meeting since her cancer was diagnosed more than a year ago. Both last fall and this fall the “room service” she called was not in a hotel, but in a hospital room. Yet, her name was upon the lips and minds of nearly everyone at the meetings. No one could fill the vacant chair. New directors may be elected, but there will always be an empty spot in the hearts of those with whom Dee has shared good times and bad in the Missouri Advertising Managers Association.

I’ve witnessed no greater tribute to Dee than the love I beheld last week in the tearful eyes and trembling voices of her friends. I don’t know if she knows how important she is to them, or to all of us.

I’ve been reminded often how much folks here care for her. Last week I was reminded of the lives she has touched outside the community. I’ve always known of it, but was nonetheless moved by the affection and concern of Dee’s advertising friends of many years.

The friendship and love of kindred spirits binds them in a way that someone who has never had such friends can’t possibly understand, or one who has can never full explain.

MAMA will never have another “Mom” like Dee.

Jim Hamilton is a retired newspaper editor/publisher. He continues to write and his column appears in numerous Missouri newspapers.