Peyton Coyner (1946-2025)
Carol & Peyton in 2016
My friend, Peyton Coyner, died May 16. He was just shy of 79. We met as college
students at the University of Virginia in 1969, were both Rolling
Stones fans and partied together during my senior year. He was the
only person I knew in Charlottesville when I returned to graduate
school in 1972 after military service. He patiently listened to my stories of Vietnam and helped me become a civilian again. Our friendship deepened
based on shared values, including a strong dislike of Richard Nixon. In 73-74 we were neighbors a few miles apart on Old
Lynchburg Road. We spent much time at one house or the other. That was the year Peyton was dating his future wife, Carol,
beginning a relationship that would more than half a century.
Our friendship continued after I moved to Richmond in 1974. I was a frequent visitor to the home he shared with Carol in Crozet while he began planning to build a house in rural Nelson County. He was aghast when I decided to move to Phoenix, Arizona in 1982 (“Why would you want to live in that hell hole?” was more or less what he asked. I’m not sure I had a satisfactory answer but I went anyway.) One of my biggest concerns was how the move would affect a friendship that had evolved into family-adjacent territory. I needn’t have worried. Peyton became a regular correspondent, sending cards, clippings, pictures and song parodies. His letters and cards (envelopes, too) were works of art, generously illustrated with rubber stamp images and the occasional sketch. Along with the regular correspondence, he and Carol welcomed me on many return trips to Virginia to visit friends. Their home became my anchor to Virginia.
During those years our friendship deepened despite the almost 3,000 miles between us. Peyton may have thought Phoenix was a hell hole but he loved southern Utah and I traveled there with him several times. We car camped in Zion and Bryce Canyon National Parks and other points in 1995 and canoed the Green River through Labyrinth Canyon the following year. (He taught me how to steer a canoe on that trip.) In 1999 he joined my brother and me rafting the San Juan River. A few years later he was one of my primary Trail Angels when I hiked the Appalachian Trail. After hearing my description of trail magic (people serving food and drink to hikers on the AT) Peyton began doing the same at the Tye River crossing not far from his home. In 2011 he visited Olympia and we camped three nights at Mt. Rainier National Park. We canoed the Okeefenokee Swamp in 2014.
Peyton was always willing to share himself, whether through his fine stained glass artistry or community service. His house was filled with his glass creations; many other creations made their way to friends’ homes (including mine). During a long retirement beginning in the mid-1990s Peyton helped establish and construct the Almost Home Animal Shelter that dramatically increased adoption rates in Nelson County. He continued his commitment to animal rescue by driving animals from Virginia as far north as Boston for adoption(“mutt shuttles”) and he regularly transported injured animals to local wildlife centers. He was instrumental in converting the abandoned Blue Ridge Railroad right-of-way to a hiking, biking and horseback riding trail along the Piney River in southern Nelson County. In 2005 he volunteered to repair damage in Mississippi after Hurricane Katrina. On a smaller scale, Peyton kept the Rockfish River clear of boating hazards; one canoe trip I took with him involved cutting “strainers” out of the way, a task that occasionally sent up rooster-tails of water when his chainsaw blade cut below the surface.
My world is diminished with Peyton’s passing but the loss, while particularly acute at the moment, in no way diminishes the joy and companionship that he brought to my life. I am fortunate to have shared so many years of friendship with him.
Peyton was a fine man and good friend. I will miss him.
The best epitaph I can offer is Peyton’s own words. It’s one of many parodies and speaks to the kind of person he was.
Mutt Shuttle Man (w/ apologies to Billy Joel.)
It's
six a.m. on a Saturday
As
the
regular crowd shuffles in
There's an Amherst gal working next to
me
Stuffin’ pups in a plastic cage pen
She
says, "Man, do you think these are Rotties here?
I'm not
really sure if they are,
But they’re sad and they’re sweet
and they got damn big feet
They’ll be lucky to fit in the
car."
La
la la, di de
da
La la, di de
da da dum
Chorus:
Bring us some dogs, you’re
Mutt
Shuttle Man
Bring
us some dogs
today
Well, we're all in the mood for some Malamutes
Bring
some Beagles and Blue Ticks our way.
Now the
New Jersey shelters
have
friendly folk,
And they get all our
puppies
for free
Most
will
quickly be sold, but down here dogs grow old
While there's some
place that they'd rather be.
They’d
say, "Lord, I believe they’ll be killing me."
As the
wag fades away from their
tail
"Well,
I'm sure I could be a great lap dog
If I could get out of this
jail."
La
la la, di de
da
La la, di de
da da dum
Oh, I seem an interstate junkie now
Who
never has time for his
wife
Haulin’ hounds
small and big, I am stuck with this gig
And probably will be for
life
And the waitresses don’t share my politics
Other
drivers all seem to be stoned
As
they're phonin’
and textin’ and tweetin’,
Guess it's better than dying
alone.
Chorus
Bring us some dogs, you’re
Mutt
Shuttle Man
Bring
us some dogs
today
Well, we're all up
here looking for
Pointers,
Bring
some Shelties and Shepherds our way.
It's a pretty good
crowd for a van load
And the
shelter guy
gives me a smile
'Cause he knows that it's me who’ll help mop
up the pee
While we stretch
out some
lives for a while
And the van, it sounds full of carnivores
And
the steering wheel smells just like fleas
And the folks at the
charities
laugh at my parodies
And say, "Man, why are you writin'
these?"
Oh, la la la, di de
da
La la, di de
da da dum
Chorus:
Bring us some dogs, you’re
Mutt
Shuttle Man
Bring
us some dogs
today
Well, we've
all got
our hearts set on
Labradors
Bring
some Dobies
and Dachshunds
our way
Labels: friends
3 Comments:
We were neighbors to Peyton and Carol. Loved him so much. He always lent us his van to transport rescued piggies all up and down the East Coast. I loved the times I got to travel on day trips with him.
You must have wonderful stories. Love to hear them.
Lorelei
I hadn't heard of Peyton's death. I last saw him in October 2017, just months after Lynn and I moved in together her in Cleveland (which was eight years ago today). I had dinner with him at Dr. Ho's Pizza in North Garden, near Charlottesville, and telephoned him a few weeks later, when I adopted my own dog. Peyton was a devoted dog owner. Carol and he always had a few at the Nelson County house that he'd built (small, cabin-like, and heated by the wood that he'd cut down and put aside for the purpose). We took a marathon cross-country van trip to an 11-day Green River voyage in Southwest Utah, doing some hiking in Arches National Park, and we took five or ten short trips on Central Virginia rivers like the James, the Rivanna, and the Middle and Lower Tye. One of these, an overnight on the James, was with Elden. These adventures were mostly from 2003 to 2005, I think. We didn't do much together after that period. I'd talk to him on occasion, maybe listen to him talk about driving Nelson Animal Shelter dog rescues to Massachusetts for adoption. Those were good stories. Peyton had retired when he was in his 50s, I think, and the Shelter was a big activity for him, as was the Nelson County Democratic Party (he did big campaign signs) and stained-glass making.
I've got some photos of the two of us from the Green River journey. We sang John Prine songs when we paddled.
Peyton created the absolute best prize, a stained-glass "bumper-sticker box," which I won in 1999 and still sits on my desk, now, although I don't remember where I put all the bumper stickers (I'd designed the last winning one in the contest, so I'd kept them). I use it for pens, etc. Given that most of Gene's prizes sucked, it's hard to state how much nicer the box is than the general run of awards. That box probably introduced me better to Peyton than otherwise.
I got real sick with chronic severe depression in 2008 or 2009 (probably the former, but it's never that clear) and Peyton didn't seem to understand it the kind of comprehensive pall with which the disease covers one's experience of the world. It was, probably, so far outside his own understanding that he had difficulty empathizing, but he wasn't the only one. And, I, being mentally ill and struggling with prescription medications, wasn't the best of companions. (As an aside, being so very depressed demonstrates how little patience those around you might have for mental illness. Maybe any chronic illness.) One reason that I wanted to see him when I returned briefly to Charlottesville in 2017 was to show him that I had gotten better and that I was happy again and enjoying life, in Cleveland, a city that has been good to me but, honestly, it's still not one that is attractive to many, with Lynn, whom I married in 2022. In 2017, it might have been hard to understand why I'd picked up and moved. I get it, though, given the number of times that I've mentioned to Lynn how our learning to live together happily seemed to defy odds though, in truth, we've actively had something to do with the success.
I didn't call Peyton in the past few years, though I thought of doing so very, very often. I just didn't know how to apologize for losing contact. Didn't know how to catch up after so many years of silence. The thing is, I don't have anyone in mind, perhaps one or two other people, and these from high school, to whom I'd like to speak and whom I regret not (so far) contacting. He was the only guy about whom I was curious. I looked at him in Elden's funeral crowd (as seen online) and didn't spot him. He might have been there, though. I'd thought of attending but it got inconvenient, somehow.
I'll ask (my daughter) Morgan (27 years old and living in Denver) if she remembers him. She and he were always good together and we took her on a short trip down the Rivanna.
I don't yet know the lessons from it all.
Brian Broadus
That was something that I posted on Facebook. Forgive the odd references. I'm sure that you get the overall.
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