My Friend Sandy

A couple thousand people were packing the main conference room in Orlando that day. A moderator announced from the dais that there was an unscheduled breakout session to hear a specific presenter. I thought the topic sounded engaging, so I filed in with several hundred other people into a side room, lined up like sardines, standing shoulder to shoulder.

The presenter began to speak, and it became clear it was really a sales pitch. Disgusted, I rolled my eyes.

It was a classic bait-and-switch—at least that is how I remember it. For it was more than twenty years ago.

About that moment, I glanced to my right and out of the corner of my eye noticed this attractive woman with a look of consternation on her face that mimicked what I was feeling on the inside and more than likely showing on the outside.

I raised my eyebrows and said, “That’s not why we came in here, is it?”

To that she replied, “No, it isn’t at all.”

And that’s when I felt an urge in my spirit, a gut intuition, a distinct impression that went something like this: You must know this woman. She will introduce you to people who will be very important on your journey.

Some people call that your inner voice, others call it conscience. Religious folks call it the Spirit or divine wisdom. Others call it gut instinct. I just know that when I follow those inner promptings it results in my good.

And that is how my friendship with Sandy began.

I asked her who she was and told her I wanted to know her. Now this may have seemed something very odd for a younger man to ask an older woman to provide her contact information. But Sandy was no average woman. She was ready and handed me her business card, for I believe she felt that divine spark too.

Within weeks we were connecting via snail mail and then telephone. She had set up some speaking engagements in Vermont for me and wanted to make some introductions. The rest is now sweet, precious history.

You see, Sandy passed away on March 7, 2023.

She lived a full life.

She lived it well.

Sandra Jean Simpson LeSourd Young was born on December 29, 1936 in St. Johnsbury, VT. She grew up there and eventually received the title of Miss Vermont and Miss Congeniality, both fitting titles for her. She lived in NYC for a time, became a Walt Disney artist and later a published author of several books and numerous articles in print and online. She raised three children. She also married the late famed editor and publisher, Leonard Lesourd, and at the time of her passing was married to the Rev. Earl Young of Sarasota, FL whom she loved dearly.

Sandy was a sought-after conference speaker across the US. Over the years, she offered hope to thousands upon thousands, especially those who battled psycho-emotional struggles, compulsive behaviors, toxic relationships, or substance use disorders. Through her vivacious personality and wild-and-woolly storytelling, she proclaimed that hope, healing, and change indeed are possible.

Sandy had a deep, vibrant faith and spiritual view of the world that could not be easily housed in many of the frail structures that popular American religion offers today.

“You can’t put God in a box,” she would sometimes say.

I would add that you couldn’t put Sandy in a box either.

I know that her out-of-the-box spiritual expression irritated religious people from time-to-time. But she did not let the miserable piety of others bring her down. Sandy lived loudly with laughter, love, joy, and a healthy dose of irreverence when called for. She recognized that on occasion she may cross a line or misspeak. But she always endeavored to own it, correct it, and learn from it. I respected her for this and only hope that I can do as well as she.

One time I was with Sandy, and she told me were going to the Von Trapp Lodge in Stowe, VT. She casually mentioned she would introduce me to her friend Rosemary Von Trapp, the real life eldest daughter of Captain Georg and Maria Von Trapp from The Sound of Music.

Some years later, we brought Rosemary to South Florida. We set up interviews with local media and speaking engagements in public schools where Rosemary could speak against anti-Semitism, tell the story of her family’s escape from the Nazis, and advocate for reconciliation. We even collaborated with a synagogue in Boynton Beach, FL for a remembrance service on Kristallnacht.

These were formational experiences for me. I mean, who among us can say they wore a Tyrolean, Alpine, green felt hat and sang tunes from The Sound of Music with a real life Von Trapp leading on guitar?

Sweet times, indeed.

Sandy and I would also travel to NYC on occasion. She introduced me to influential people in publishing, journalism, and the media who had a profound impact on the direction my life would take.

On one occasion we were treated to dinner at The Four Seasons, complete with gourmet cotton candy for dessert. I realized I didn’t have a dinner coat so I dragged her to a shop on Fifth Avenue and purchased a black velvet dinner jacket which I own to this day. We then rushed to Broadway, arriving just in time to see The Producers. We both cackled and guffawed—evidently loud enough that the gentleman behind us informed us during intermission that he wished he could enjoy life as much as we were in that moment.

In time, Sandy relocated to South Florida and made my family’s congregation, Covenant Centre, her spiritual home. She was a source of life and joy for many people during those years.

She moved into a condo in the apartment building next to mine. One New Year’s Eve, I had friends coming over to celebrate. I looked out the back windows of the apartment across the golf course to see if her lights were on, as I sometimes would.

To my horror, there were flames shooting from all the back windows of her condo. We all rushed over, and she and Ms. Rosa, her roommate, were standing outside watching all of their possessions literally go up in smoke. We stood in shock and disbelief. Sandy walked up to us, smiling, happy to see us. Even during a destructive fire, her inner light burned brighter. She knew it only meant a new beginning was in store.

That ability to reframe tragedy and suffering was central to her resilience, I believe.

After I confirmed of her passing through a public announcement from a funeral home in Sarasota, I reached out to a few people who knew her over the years.

Here are some comments they shared:

“Lovely woman and a friend, enjoyed being in her presence.”

“I’ve been struggling with getting older but thinking about being like her when I’m older makes me look forward to it. Wise and joyful, you just wanted to be around her and listen and learn.”

“A true inspiration.”

So if you read this far, you may be wondering, Why spend so much time telling her story?

For starters, Sandy always told me to write. So, I am following her counsel.

But in addition, I share these stories because hers is a story worth being told. I am sure I have missed significant parts and details, and for that, I apologize. This is merely my peek into the more than twenty years I called her friend.

Years ago, her friend Diane Sawyer endorsed one of her books with these fitting words, “Sandra LeSourd has stared into a dark abyss few of us will ever confront. This book is her searing story and a loving map for others who are looking for a way out."

I echo Diane’s words. Sandy’s story allowed many to forge deeper connections with themselves and others, modeling beautiful, authentic, messy humanity to a world that desperately needs to know that there is not just a way out, there is a way through.

Sandy made it out of the abyss. Better yet, Sandy made it through this life. For that, I honor her, and a life marvelously lived.