Brian Manzella
Administrator
Doris 'Deedy' Young Finney, wife of veteran sports writer Peter Finney, dies at 81 | NOLA.com
Nobody has ever had more luck meeting and learning from folks older and wiser than they are then I have. I was blessed with a great set of parents that most of the guys I grew up with would have traded theirs straight up for. I have the absolutely greatest in-laws in the history of the world, folks so easy and fun to be around that I shed a tear when I had to move out after living there for two and half years after Katrina, when me and Lisa's new home was finally complete. I lost my Dad in 1987 and met my wife and in-laws in 2001. During those 14 years, with all the trouble I got myself into, most people would have wound up on some shrink's couch. I wound up on Peter and Deedy Finney's couch.
At about 27 years old, I was more-or-less "adopted" by the family of my great pal Michael Finney. I ate lots and lots of dinners there. Enough late night frozen pizza and Blue Bell vanilla to stock a Kroger's. Stayed overnight so many times I lost count by the months. Got dressed there for dates. Went to all of the family's parties. The Finney's have six children and I became the goofy seventh one. All of them are smart and talented and just as nice and inclusive as their parents. When I was at the Finney residence, I never once felt like I was imposing, or that I didn't belong, or was an odd wheel on a large vehicle with lots of them. That wouldn't have been possible without the person running that house to be one of the greatest and sweetest people ever. That person, Mike's mom, was Dorris "Deedy" Finney. She passed away today at 81.
Deedy was one of those people that you could probably do a movie about that folks would really like. She had a interesting and anything but easy upbringing, and met her perfect match in sportswriter Peter Finney when they were both working at the New Orleans' Times Picayune and States-Item Newspaper complex. They married and had six children, twenty grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren. She was the opposite of dull, and could carry on great conversations with folks from any walk of life. One of her little "things" was keeping a scrapbook of odd-couple wedding announcements. It was pretty darn funny to look at and maybe reminded her often of how incredibly lucky she was in her own marriage.
There is no way to write something about Deedy without mentioning that she was a very pretty lady, who was always very stylish and classy. For whatever reason, she got a big kick out of me, and I would tell her tales of my anything but boring life with her ending up laughing at me like I was Johnny Carson. She was a great cook and foodie supreme who introduced me to many awesome New Orleans restaurants by taking me there on full scholarship with Mike and his Dad. After she met Lisa for the first time, she jumped to the head of the line of the countless folks who told me to marry her as fast as I could.
I got to visit with her a couple of times over the holidays with Mike and his son Jackson, and I found out I could still make her laugh.
She always did and always will—when I ever think of her—make me do nothing but smile.
Thanks for everything Deedy.
Nobody has ever had more luck meeting and learning from folks older and wiser than they are then I have. I was blessed with a great set of parents that most of the guys I grew up with would have traded theirs straight up for. I have the absolutely greatest in-laws in the history of the world, folks so easy and fun to be around that I shed a tear when I had to move out after living there for two and half years after Katrina, when me and Lisa's new home was finally complete. I lost my Dad in 1987 and met my wife and in-laws in 2001. During those 14 years, with all the trouble I got myself into, most people would have wound up on some shrink's couch. I wound up on Peter and Deedy Finney's couch.
At about 27 years old, I was more-or-less "adopted" by the family of my great pal Michael Finney. I ate lots and lots of dinners there. Enough late night frozen pizza and Blue Bell vanilla to stock a Kroger's. Stayed overnight so many times I lost count by the months. Got dressed there for dates. Went to all of the family's parties. The Finney's have six children and I became the goofy seventh one. All of them are smart and talented and just as nice and inclusive as their parents. When I was at the Finney residence, I never once felt like I was imposing, or that I didn't belong, or was an odd wheel on a large vehicle with lots of them. That wouldn't have been possible without the person running that house to be one of the greatest and sweetest people ever. That person, Mike's mom, was Dorris "Deedy" Finney. She passed away today at 81.
Deedy was one of those people that you could probably do a movie about that folks would really like. She had a interesting and anything but easy upbringing, and met her perfect match in sportswriter Peter Finney when they were both working at the New Orleans' Times Picayune and States-Item Newspaper complex. They married and had six children, twenty grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren. She was the opposite of dull, and could carry on great conversations with folks from any walk of life. One of her little "things" was keeping a scrapbook of odd-couple wedding announcements. It was pretty darn funny to look at and maybe reminded her often of how incredibly lucky she was in her own marriage.
There is no way to write something about Deedy without mentioning that she was a very pretty lady, who was always very stylish and classy. For whatever reason, she got a big kick out of me, and I would tell her tales of my anything but boring life with her ending up laughing at me like I was Johnny Carson. She was a great cook and foodie supreme who introduced me to many awesome New Orleans restaurants by taking me there on full scholarship with Mike and his Dad. After she met Lisa for the first time, she jumped to the head of the line of the countless folks who told me to marry her as fast as I could.
I got to visit with her a couple of times over the holidays with Mike and his son Jackson, and I found out I could still make her laugh.
She always did and always will—when I ever think of her—make me do nothing but smile.
Thanks for everything Deedy.
