It was news to Kathy Massey’s daughter, Amanda, and other family members to read in Facebook memorial tributes about Kathy’s fame on the dance floor. The dance stories continued to roll in during the celebration of life service held for the popular Patagonia resident. One very tall female friend recalled how tiny Kathy, almost a foot shorter, insisted in one dance on being “the man.” Another woman stepped up to add that Kathy was the best “man” she had ever danced with.
Kathy, 61, was also someone friends remembered as impossible to beat at Scrabble or ping-pong. She had townspeople dropping off interesting bugs to the point that her fridge became full of insect specimens. She was full of mischief, as when she introduced her longtime partner to the local pastor with a sly, “This is Harry. He’s an atheist.” And she was overflowing with kindness and mothering, generously offering advice, even when not solicited, as many friends laughingly noted.
Kathy’s direct and sincere warmth from the heart drew circles of friends around her after she arrived with Harry Hower in Patagonia 15 years ago. During this time, she also attracted appreciative customers who requested special orders when she was manager of the Gathering Grounds, or who called in for color advice when she was an assistant at Green Planet Paints, or who excitedly shared their health results with her when she was administrative assistant at BalancePoint.
Family came from across the country, and a variety of friends from Tucson joined in these memories and chuckles, emceed by Jacques Sennyey at the gathering held in the labyrinth courtyard at the Patagonia Community Church. It was a fitting spot, as it was built by Kathy’s partner, Harry, local master mason, firefighter and EMT. Pre-Patagonia stories were told of how Kathy Jo Masterson Massey grew up in a family of eight children in Indiana and then moved to Tucson, where she and her husband, Tony, were raising two young daughters and a son when Tony, a Vietnam vet, died of Agent Orange disease.
Perhaps a fellow Patagonian summed it up best: “Kathy went full tilt into whatever she was doing. If she was going to dance, she danced till she dropped.” The friend compared her to Icarus, who in Greek myth soared toward the sun before falling when the wax melted from the feathered wings he fashioned. It’s not the fall, but the determined flight we remember and will miss.