Anna Brelsford Coiner

Anna Brelsford Coiner, known to all as Annie B, ABC, or ABC123—daughter of Tyler, TX, longtime resident of San Antonio, erstwhile New Yorker, frequent visitor pour Paris, France, Europe (it always had to be said this way), Godmother to six, collector extraordinaire, and wanderer par excellence—rambled on to her holy reward at the age of 79, Thursday, May 25, 2023.

Born Anna Harvey Brelsford to Virginia McElwee McLeod and Gordon Lee Brelsford on January 23, 1944, in Tyler, TX, Annie B considered herself blessed by the sequential month and date of her birth. Had her mother waited a year, Annie could have scored the trifecta and been born on 12345, but that was not to be. This probably bothered her.

Annie B attended Hockaday (C’62), spent two years at Briarcliff and graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in Studio Arts in 1966. She was a “Pi Phi” at UT where she forged many lifelong friendships. Annie B was presented as a debutante in the 1963 Texas Rose Festival in Tyler celebrating My Fair Lady in “The Realm of Musical Theatre” and at the Silver Rose Ball in Vienna, Austria, Europe in 1964. She took great pride in her heritage and her education and relished family, history, and tradition. Annie B had a profound interest, which often bordered on exhausting, in family trees.

In 1968, she married Bev Coiner, making her initials A.B.C., and there was no looking back. From that point forward, Annie B branded herself “ABC” or “ABC123” and wove her acronym into every conversation she had. It was catchy, it stuck, and she was relentless in its application. Reenforced through constant repetition, it had the very deliberate added benefit of imprinting her birthday on her audience. While the marriage didn’t last, the name did. There was no changing ABC*!

Annie B’s life was a lot of things*. A rambler in her thoughts, words, and actions, she was also a raconteur, wanderer, riddler, collector, artist, actress, realtor, photographer, Francophile, treasure hunter, and pot-stirrer. She rode a Triumph motorcycle in high school, pierced men’s ears in college, drank hearty burgundy, smoked cigarettes, rode a bicycle built for two on her own, showed up unannounced, sang songs, roller skated through Times Square, conducted in-depth analysis of the lyrics of Margaritaville, taught kids to “people watch”, drove her cars into the ground, bungee jumped in New Zealand, wore mermaid costumes, stalked Central Market, cornered people in long conversations, loved to show off her ostrich egg and Piggy lamp, always brought a gift, attacked each day with child-like wonderment, and left a lasting impression. She was beaucoup, boo-coo, buku. Visiting Iran, Turkey, Egypt, Paris, France (as well as Paris, Texas), Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, South America, Santa Fe, Colorado, California, Florida, and New York, New York—it could never simply be called New York—she saw the world, visited old friends, made new friends, and fed a boundless curiosity. She loved people, she loved art, she loved things, she loved photography, she loved taking pictures of food and construction sites, she liked taking home leftovers better than actually eating, she had an uncanny knack for finding the most bizarre form of artistic expression in any given venue, she loved cookies and ice cream, and adored birthday parties—both her own and others. As far as she was concerned, with people, paper, clothing, art, and the spoken word, more was better. Annie B was happy, joyous, and warm. She always underway and always “ready to play.” There were no brakes on Annie’s car*.

She worked as a realtor with Kuper Realty for 27 years, enjoyed visiting every open house that she could, and needed to be out and about. An estate sale junkie, she was always happy to show up on the last day and put a clean-up bid on all the items that hadn’t sold. She loved the unloved and had a big heart for anything no one wanted: silly toys found on grocery store end caps, abandoned pot plants, half-empty water bottles, leftovers, garishly colored knick-knacks, and lots and lots of underappreciated art.

She loved Paris, France, Europe, and took great joy in getting updates from myriad newsletters (all of which were read, annotated, and gifted to anyone going on a trip). She took French lessons into her 60’s and rejoiced in any opportunity to show off her French, even just en petit. She loved word games, word play, reading roadside signs out loud, thought the word “Toyota” was hysterical, and that almost everything sounded like “the lyrics to a country & western song”. Forever young, Annie B was a kid at heart. She adored children, was most comfortable sitting next to a four-year-old at the dinner table, and would always choose the youngest over one of her peers. To kids, she was an absolute delight.

A survivor, Annie B got sober in her 40’s and overcame a brain aneurism at 49. She thrived for another 30 years, bouncing back, and finding her kooky, crazy, best-self without missing a beat.

In a world where the word unique is overused, ABC123 was truly, sui generis. She was madcap, colorful, zany, silly, crazy, thoughtful, nuts, kind, eclectic, endearing, eccentric, ebullient, energetic, a free spirit, the “best kind of quirky”, bohemian, iconoclastic, whimsical, “our own Mary Poppins”, outlandish, outrageous, unconventional, curious, always inquisitive, a devoted friend, loyal, and absolutely genuine. Annie B was bananas! She was happy, fun, entertaining, never met a stranger, normally had a smile on her face, was the center of attention wherever she went, and always left a laugh in her wake*. She was a character, she was a good time, and she was très ABC. Sometimes she could be too much.

An artist in her own right, Annie B had a passion for all things artistic. She had a broader interpretation of art than most and could often see art where most people would say there was none. It was that optimistic outlook that made her so much fun. An accomplished photographer, she was rarely without her camera and would take a picture of just about anything. While frequently omitted from her own photos, when she turned the camera over to others, she stole the show; making faces, pointing, and gesticulating while those around her served as her foil.

Conversations with Annie B rarely left you wanting. She was chatty, non-linear, dominant, and domineering in her conversational style. She was never bashful and worked the room on every occasion. When she left a room, “ABC123” was not far from anyone’s lips. She was positively manic about tracking conversations and the interpersonal relationships they uncovered. With Germanic rigor in a scrambled style somewhere between e.e. cummings and Salvador Dali, she would meticulously take notes, document conversations, and identify relationships in her headstrong zeal to “connect-the-dots”. For Annie, the great mystery of life was the interconnectedness of all humanity, and she was hell-bent on solving it. She set out on one-woman mission to talk to and meticulously document as many people as possible, connect-the-dots, and solve the riddle. She proved out her work on various media. Her palette for notetaking included; notebook paper, printer paper, newspaper, scratch paper, birthday cards, paper bags, folders, files, napkins, Ziploc bags, Kleenex, wrapping paper, receipts, et. al. Margins, lines, and conventional views of top and bottom meant nothing. She routinely wrote around corners. Paper, cards, bags, and gifts were constantly rotated, pens switched to different inks and widths, names of previous recipients scratched out. She was a networker and a “connector” in the greatest sense of the word. Her magnum opus may well be all the dots she connected, all the common ground she discovered, and all the people she made part of her life.

All the world’s a stage and Annie B did not simply “get dressed”, she put on a costume, engaging in a daily act of performance art. She had an unconventional sense of style that melded traditional and improvised garments, a kaleidoscope of bright colors, and variegated prints and patterns. Her home, “Shallow Lawn”, evolved into a costume staging venue containing rack upon rack and box after box of colorful clothes, hats of any flavor, crazy shoes, artistic scarves, costume jewelry, themed socks, bizarre handbags, myriad re-cast or repurposed gewgaws, accessories etc., etc. There was so much etcetera that the terms “various and sundry” could not even begin to describe what one inspector called an “exorbitant amount of contents” and another friend said was “both a delight and a disaster.” For a select few kids, one of their great childhood joys was being invited over to play dress-up and have an opportunity to wade through the art installation that was her home. Outfitted from a network of second hand and thrift stores—always in purples, pinks, and greens, always avant garde, and dubiously appropriate to almost every occasion—there was a 0% chance that anyone was showing up to party in the same outfit as Annie B or that your eye would not be immediately drawn to her. Annie B accented almost every costume with a fanny pack, a topless wrap-around straw or cloth variant of a full head visor peculiar to her, and a vest adorned with pins, buttons, and a weathered sticker memorializing a visit to the McNay, Witte, SAMA, the Met, or MoMA. Long before it became popular, Annie B defined the cutting edge of fashion. What Imelda Marcos was to couture, Annie B was to thrifting.

To be on Annie’s short list meant that you were going to receive unannounced drop-ins and gifts. Her love gifts came in many flavors; annotated photographs, pink flamingos, comics and crossword puzzles from a newspaper printed on your birthday three years ago, rubber band balls, neon racoon tails, CDs with vacation and special event photos, frisbees, UT paraphernalia, second hand monogrammed items, and other treasures and trinkets. They normally arrived in a lovingly decorated repurposed bag, with a handmade card that looked like a ransom letter, pink and purple yarn, and any other flavor of the day. While not all her gifts were appreciated, gifting was her love language, and she chose and gave thoughtfully.

One of her most wonderful attributes was that at her core, she was a happy-go-lucky soul. Late in life, when told she had no short-term memory and suffered from dementia, she responded, “Well, that’s unfortunate” and rolled on. It was as good as that conversation could have gone.

Throughout her life she demonstrated a love for people, a love of art, a passion for collecting, a joi de vivre, genuine interest in others, and kindness. Sometimes it seemed like chaos, but for her, it worked. Beyond the unforgettable nature of ABC123, the lessons of her life are many. Most importantly among them; show up and be present, appreciate the art of life, find it in your heart to love the unloved, find joy in the little things, always be ready to play, embrace your inner-crazy, play games with words, defy convention, be child-like, and always sit at the kid’s table.

Annie B was a joiner and collector of clubs, associations, and memberships including: the Argyle, SACC (the “Burr Road Department”), Alamo Heights Terrel Hills Garden Club, Green Hand Garden Club, World Affairs Council, St. Mark’s Church, Her Ski Group the “Mountain Mamas”, her “Word Group”, the El Mirador Taco Club, Los Compadres, Learning About Learning, and any and every museum she could visit. A devoted volunteer and sincere believer, Annie B dutifully attended Sunday services at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church and was an active participant in their Sunday School Reflections Group for more than 30 years. Her place in Heaven seems assured.She is preceded in death by her mother Virginia McElwee McLeod Brelsford Hutcheson, her Father Gordon Lee Brelsford and Stepfather Joseph Chappell Hutcheson III, and her brother Robert Gordon Brelsford. She is survived by her sister, Susan Brelsford Chipman, many Brelsford cousins, and six Godchildren.

Honorary Pallbearers are her 6 Godchildren: Wilbur Lee Matthews II (San Antonio), Hillary Walker Conrey (San Antonio), Alexander Scott McAllister (San Antonio), Rebecca Pettus Mooney (Rye, NY), Sarah Penny Marjoram (Marietta, GA), James Henry Eddy III (San Francisco, CA), Brevet Godchild John Carroll Park, Sr. (San Antonio), and her cousins: Dr. William G. Brelsford and Gates G. Brelsford of Tyler.

To those of you who shared the ride, Annie B would want to say “Merry, Merry” and “Merci, Merci”. She loved you “a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.” Adieu, adieu, until we meet again. It was a hoot-and-a-half! To honor Annie B donations to SAY Sí or Family Violence Prevention Services - Battered Women and Children’s Shelter would be a tribute she would adore. Please share your thoughts, memories, photos, and any other souvenirs of the life of ABC123 on the Porter Loring or Legacy.com websites.

A special thank you is extended to Dr. Mark Thornton, Annie B’s primary care physician for many years who went above and beyond for her, Karel Hoffman, Myrtle, and Andrea, care givers extraordinaire, who were her advocates and supporters through her time of greatest need.

A service is scheduled for 11:00 a.m., Thursday, June 8th, at the columbarium at the Episcopal Diocese of West Texas at 111 Torcido Drive, where she will be interred, with a reception to follow.

*She loved a double entendre. One of these may in fact be a quintuple entendre.