High Heels, Dragons, and leading with heart

There are a number of people you’ll meet in a typical lifespan. Some remain an acquaintance, some of them you hope you never see again, some of them become a best friend, and some who leave a lasting imprint on your life. 

That’s what Mary did to me. She imprinted.

I met Mary on a fall evening in September 2015 at an open house we hosted at Hickory Hill Recovery Center. I was recently hired and was just following orders. I planned a series of open houses targeting different communities to try to gain support for this newly opened recovery center for men. My job, which had multiple titles, was inclusive of the community outreach director’s title, and I was responsible for getting the community to support the recovery center. That night, we had several entities represented in the room. I had gotten everything placed to perfection, had the facility looking sharp, the guys were sharp, I had taught them some catering basics, and we were feeling great. I knew that the CEO was coming, but I hadn’t gotten to meet her yet. I heard she was fun and outgoing, but as typical, I would be the judge of that. 

As always, I was talking and entertaining. Ensuring every detail was perfect. And in the busy-ness, I noticed this bright, almost purple, royal blue suit enter the room. There she was. Jet black hair, make-up on point, jewelry was fabulous, and the gorgeous smile on her face, framed by her flawless, but fierce eyebrows, and YES! She wore her heels! Instant win in my book. Heels are essential to fabulosity.

We were shortly connected and introduced, and together we worked the room and made the event spectacular, gaining the community support needed to truly build community in these men’s lives. What I didn’t understand about Mary at the time was that that was all she ever did. She wanted to make people’s lives better. All people. Her famili’s, my family’s, our clients’ families, and her employees. She just wanted people to have a better chance at a better life. 

When the event was over, she wouldn’t leave. She helped take out the trash, clear tables, reset the room, and talk 1-1 with the guys in the center, finding ways she could again make someone’s life better. As I ended my duties for the evening, she asked me to sit down and talk to her. We talked for hours. HOURS. We talked about HHRC issues, KRCC Issues, Politics, regional issues, all of it…literally til after midnight. (To the point that my husband thought I was sleeping around on him, because there is no way in hell that ANY CEO would stay and talk to an employee like that, for that long.) Well. He eventually learned that Mary Meade-McKenzie was nothing like any other CEO/Executive Director, nor any other general human to ever exist. Mary was a truly unique, authentic, and amazing individual. She marched to the beat of her own drum and even found that “Annoying” as most things did. 

Mary and I grew close, and quickly, as two Virgos often do. We would spend time together concocting work plans and talking about our mutual desire for total world dominance. She would tell me these massive and elaborate visions she had. Plans for buildings, events, programs, and trips. We would laugh and carry on as though she wasn’t my boss. As our work grew closer, so did our friendship, and those meetings became 12:00 p.m. phone conversations where we would talk about the movie she was writing, the store she wanted to open, the collection of random materials for crafting, and the latest episode of Game of Thrones (which always frustrated her because she just could not believe that I didn’t watch it). We were boss and employee, sure. But our relationship turned into friendship quicker than either of us imagined. I knew so with her, as she always kept boundaries in place, and we only gossiped about townsfolk, not employees/coworkers. When Mary came to us with the desire to ride a massive, life-sized dragon through all of the fall festival parades in the region, she knew exactly what my thoughts were. She read them across my face. But our team at CDM/Horizen made it happen, and she became Daenerys Targaryen and rode that dragon across hills and hollers, with the biggest smile on her face. It was always her lot in life to tame the dragons. Be it addiction, bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, sexual assault, or any obstacle life could throw. She made it her work to slay the dragons that stood in the way of others to have a happier life, and typically while ignoring her own. She wasn’t selfish; she was kind and giving, and I saw firsthand the sacrifices she made to make things better for so many others. 

Mary taught me a number of lessons. Some of them were learned over lunch, and some of them were learned in the three consecutive years she had us host a haunted house in the old Perry County jail, against our will. She taught me the importance of valuing humans for being humans, and she truly treated the custodial staff with the same respect she did the board chair. She wanted people to have a happy, purpose-driven life. She wanted people to be seen and respected as equals, and she wanted us all to be treated fairly and equitably, and to make ways and opportunities for us to see it. All of us.

She wanted life at KRCC to be fun, and not the staunch, rigid organization it had the reputation of being. One year, she wanted to have the Christmas Party at the outpatient to be relaxed, fun, and enjoyable. She said, “Now, Tim Deaton, I don’t want no Bing Crosby played at this party. We are going to liven things up. I have found a playlist that I will send you..” So she did, and I hooked my phone to the sound bar in the board room. As people began piling into the food line to fill their plates, she said, “Tim…Music, sir..” So, I hit play….At first, the delightful sound of bells jingling could be heard, followed by a digital, deep voice expressing “Merry Christmas Mother F&*$#%”!!!!!!!

I stopped breathing. And I am pretty sure she did too….I ran across the room back to my phone, scanning the room for the faces that heard it. Outpatient was filled with some of the most wholesome and amazing people you’d ever meet, and I was certain that someone had heard it. But alas, we avoided that mishap beautifully, and I got the music changed before too many had a chance to pay attention, even though there were several eyes made my way. 

I also remember our 2nd Christmas Gala at the college. There were around 450 employees there; everyone was donning their festive wear and was having a blast. Mary kept making me get drinks for the two of us, and by the end of the evening, when it was time to draw names, and too many drinks poured, and neither of us had our glasses. We were guessing at the numbers on the tickets and hoping for the best. She loved giving prizes and creating a safe and fun environment for us to be human, to be seen as human, and to see that we were valued and seen in general. She had a unique and special ability to make you feel appreciated and special. For simply being you. 

When I decided to leap to apply for the Executive Director of the Appalachian Arts Alliance, Mary was the first person I spoke to. She, of course, gave me her blessing, told me how valuable I would be if I got the position, but then gave me grief for leaving her. I am lucky that I had the opportunity to tell Mary, later, how I could never be the leader I am today, without learning it from her first. Were it not for Mary, I wouldn’t know how to be the positive and uplifting supervisor I am today. She taught me to listen to people and hear them, see them. She taught me that no dream or vision is too large; I just had to unlock the “I can” in my brain and be able to pivot on anything at any time. She taught me that I didn’t have to fall into the waves of the nonprofit industrial complex and that the only requirement I had as a leader was to lead. She taught me to never give up and to be true to who I am and what I want in my life. She taught me how to lead fiercely and with strength and how to stand up against those who tried to push me over. She also taught me that I had to work for what I wanted, that I wasn’t owed anything, and that it wasn’t going to fall in my lap. I had to make it happen.

Mary Meade-McKenzie. I hyphenate it because she got me once for messing that up. 

There are people we meet who pass through our lives, and then there are the rare few who change the way we see the world. Mary was one of those people. She didn't just leave an imprint; she left instructions. She taught us to dream bigger, laugh louder, lead with courage, treat every person with dignity, and never be afraid to tackle the dragons standing in front of us. She showed us that leadership isn't about titles or power; it's about making people believe they matter.

I'll carry those lessons with me for the rest of my life. Every time I encourage someone to chase a wild idea, choose kindness over convenience, or remind another person that they are seen and valued, a little bit of Mary is still leading the way.

Thank you, Mary, for the friendship, the laughter, the lessons, the impossible ideas, and for believing in me long before I believed in myself. The world is better because you were in it, and so am I. 

I will eternally miss you, your crazy text messages, and the way you showed us all just how much you love us, in the Mary-est of ways. I just hope she knew how much she meant to all of us.

-Tim Deaton-Conway