Al Yamashita
Jim Lynch
Larry McNeill
Kelly Falloon
Harold Baillie
Timothy Madden
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Al Yamashita remembers Debbie Post:

Bright, enthusiastic, go getter Debbie.

Indefatigable.

Yet at the same time most thoughtful and caring of others. So many of us have been blessed to know Debbie, and experience firsthand her upbeat spirit, kindness, and generosity.

That our dear Deb preferred deeds over words, positive actions over talking -- comes as no surprise to us lucky to have known her. Whenever a problem arose, you could always count on Deb to be focused first on the fixing. "Its not who is right. Its what is right." she oft observed. Her accomplishments speak for themselves.

And in her own life, though Debbie had every right to, I never once heard our friend complain about the hand she had been dealt. For Deb was truly that consumate and very principled 'do-er.' Already secure in her strong ethical values, Deb allowed herself little time for much woe-is-me kinds of reflection -- which she might consider self-indulgent or worse to her way of thinking -- self pity.

So fitting that Debbie's big heart leaves a legacy of good works. Indeed, our self deprecating trailblazer would probably be embarrassed to learn about her friends even gathering to honor her memory. But Debbie, the gal who brought so many of her friends from different parts of her life together -- might well be quite pleased to know that she still doing so now.

Another admirable and endearing quality about Deb was her astounding courage in facing adversity. For Debbie possessed that proverbial 'eye to see' -- so she usually had a pretty good idea of what might be in store for her in most any situation. But such was her strength of character that Deb invariably remained positive, calm, ever hopeful, and carried on. Fully cognizant-aware of risks and odds, Debbie would then proceed to forge ahead anyway. 'Dauntless Deb' as Pam has put it.

Some true tales about our dear friend, if I may:

1. Summer of '74 , while living in a remote Hakka lineage village in the new territories of Hong Kong near the mainland China border, far away from the bustling city, I awake one morning hearing a loud knock on my door.

To my surprise and delight it's our Debbie, toting a backpack and even a proper American greeting gift of apple pie: "That’s home made from scratch, Al, not from Betty Crocker - just to remind you we're both from 'Joisey!"

Now I had known Deb might be visiting at some point since Deb had told me she had just finished up her job at Chase Bank (ever the pioneer, Deb was the first of our group of Saybrook pals to go out and get a real job after graduation in the first place, lol) And before embarking on B School that fall, Deb had mentioned she wanted see in person the Bali and Bangkok she had read about. That too was Deb - ever curious and keen to learn. Look no further for a role model, my daughter says.

Debbie then reveals she didn't want me to have to go to all the trouble of making any special arrangements for her to find my place in the countryside. So completely on her own, a stranger in a strange land to boot -- she just figured out how to hike over to to my place (mind you back in 1974 there are no GPS/Google map traveling aids or even cell phones).

When I also warn Deb that to get to these other Asia destinations, overland by train and ferry as she has planned, you have to go through some pretty dicey territories; all on her own at that-- Deb graciously thanks me for being concerned for her safety -- but reassures me she has already prepared all precautionary measures beforehand, even down to notifying the American Consulates in each country of her itinerary in advance. "Besides I can handle solo travel, Al -- after all, I found your place, didn't I?" -- said our always reliably resourceful intrepid traveller with her trademark winning grin.

2. In spring of '76 I congratulate Deb on becoming one of the first female Associate hires at Lehman Bros, which firm at the time ruled the roost on Wall Street. Debbie's reply? --

"Thank you, Al. But you yourself know what 'ole boys clubs these trading firms can be like. Now I'm barely five foot tall and have a high squeaky voice, so just how long do you think a presence like mine will be tolerated? Furthermore as I have no personal desire to become either 'miserable or horrible,' as Woodie Allen asked Diane Keaton in 'Annie Hall,' -- "rest assured I am not planning to make this assignment my career!"

3. Likes? Debbie loved beaches, in particular the NJ shore around Beach Haven where she spent summers growing up.

Dislikes? Deb abhored pretention or snobbery of any kind by anyone. On one memorable occasion (at this very Y club in fact) when one overbearing pedant of a classmate at our table droned on and on about his boarding school background, Deb simply cut in deadpan with a gentle: "Uhh, most polite people would just say 'high school'?" -- which mercifully for all present immediately silenced the insufferable aquaintance.

4. In 2020, while still undergoing more palliative hospice like treatments, I ask Debbie how she is feeling and coping, and whether she has tried CBD to ease her pain and get more rest.

Deb avers: "Actually I am not in too much pain, Al. And at this stage I prefer lucidity to being drugged up -- so no CBD, thank you.

In truth, I feel dying is all rather boring. So no worries about me, please, ok?"

Selfless Debbie -- to the very end still more concerned about easing other's worries than even her own suffering. -- That is how I remember Debbie.
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Jim Lynch remembers Debbie:

While at Saybrook I did not spend much time with Deb; I felt I did not really know Deb well.

But as I thought about it I realized: I did know what Deb loved: She loved her farm, she loved her friends, and she loved moving and shaking in the world of finance.

Wherever we spoke it seemed like we just picked up on our previous conversation even though it might have been 10 years ago.

Deb was a woman of substance who took care of her farm, her friends and her business.

And she was always kind ...............and much loved.

We will hold her close always.
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Larry McNeill remembers Debbie:

In Pam Huntington's article on Debbie (located on page 972 of the Yale Class of 1972 Fifty Years), there is this: "Debbie did not understand 'you’re not an accountant, lawyer, furniture restorer, equity analyst, or fashion designer.' An avid do-it-yourselfer, Debbie chose her own stocks, did her own taxes, used a mannequin to make her own clothing patterns, and argued pro se in cases where she felt she was being cheated."

An example of Debbie's pro se persona can be found in the case of DEBORAH A. POST, Plaintiff, v. TOWNSHIP OF CHESTER, defendant, Superior Court of New Jersey Law Division—Civil Part, Morris County, Docket No. MRS-L-2752- 15.

Judge Stuart A. Minkowitz, A.J.S.C. (I learned that A.J.S.C. stands for "Assignment Judge of the Superior Court") issued his ORDER along with his separate STATEMENT OF REASONS on August 25, 2016. The Order states that Debbie's "Action in Lieu of Prerogative Writs is granted. The Township of Chester's Ordinance 2015-09 is invalid, null and void."

The case did not start out as with Debbie pro se but there is an explanation contained in the Statement of Reasons, pages 2 and 4.

I met Debbie in 1969 when she transferred to Yale. We were part of an informal group housed in Saybrook College who shared meals, some courses, and plentiful "bull sessions". The last time I saw her in person was in the 1980s.

Al Yamashita advised me of Debbie's diagnosis. I called her, she answered and we began a series of long telephone conversations. We learned that we shared a love for the geographical area in which we were raised (she New Jersey, me Texas), that we preferred the rural over the urban, that our preference was to do things ourselves if we could, and that our world outlooks were similar.

We discussed her pro se representation and she was very proud of her accomplishment in that case (as she should have been).

In essence, the township had passed an ordinance entitled "Traffic Management Plan For On-Farm activities" that mandated the preparation of such by the owners of farms that "anticipated 250 or more vehicles visiting a farm on any one day at one time", that the plan be submitted no later than February 1, and that "The hiring of local police officers with traffic management shall be noted if planned or if required by the Chief of Police."

An affidavit filed in the case indicated that hiring local police would cost roughly six times as much money per hour that it would cost to hire a parking attendant. Case law indicated that because police officers would be simply managing traffic, there was no requirement for any special equipment or training beyond that of parking attendants.

In the event any of the conditions of the ordinance regulations were violated, the Chief of Police or other authorized officer could order an immediate cease and desist of the event until the violated conditions no longer existed.

Listening to Debbie recount the experience of seeking modification of the ordinance via the municipal bureaucracy, the hiring of lawyers, the judge's original attitude that a litigant representing herself had a fool for a client, his change of mind once he read the affidavits and once he read Debbie's Plaintiff’s Brief reminded me of old trial lawyers telling war stories about their cases and also reminded me of Prof. Sidney Mintz, a member of his college's wrestling team many years back, watching Yale's team (that included Al Yamashita and Jim Lynch), twisting and turning in unison with the wrestlers as if he were reliving a match of his own.

Would that I could remember better these days because her retelling was "so Debbie"-- the enthusiasm, the energy and the joy.

There is no such thing as an Action in Lieu of Prerogative Writs in Texas jurisprudence and I asked Debbie if she could send me a copy of the ruling as well as the "Statement of Reasons". She did so. It's a 13 page document and the only highlights she made were in the Order: "pro se" and "granted. The Township of Chester's Ordinance 2015-09 is invalid, null and void."

Somewhere in the course of our conversations, the subject of my collecting books was discussed. The next week I received a book from Debbie along with the following undated letter: "Dear Larry...My husband dabbled in antiquarian books….wanted to be a dealer. My nyc coop's second and third bedrooms (not to mention the barn lofts here!) are lined with books which I keep trying to 'go through...' Finding homes for wonderful old books is not easy in this age of internet, etc. I have made a few anonymous donations to the libraries of the two new Yale residential colleges which had these vast open empty library rooms when I did the new colleges tour last year.

I am scheduled for a third surgery this coming Thursday the 10th. Do you believe they want to cut my head open a third time…???? And that I may indeed let them...argh!

I am not happy about this...But the alternatives seem less promising. Not sure whether I will recuperate in NYC (which is closer to the docs in the event of complications) or whether I will come back to the farm to be more comfortable. Talk to you later Cheers, Debbie"
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Kelly Falloon remembers Debbie:

Debbie was a person of courage, a trailblazer, smart, accomplished, and kind.

My friendship with her started at Yale and was woven through the years. My most in-depth experience with her was designing an addition to her Riamede home. My selection by her was an unexpected and much appreciated gift of her loyalty to friends.

The heart of her home was a 1700s rugged stone one room house with a working hearth fireplace, bedroom above. There was a larger brick 1800s addition attached. And now she was adding to her home's history in the beginning of the 2000s.

Her primary goal was to make a first-floor wheel chair accessible apartment for her ailing father, with the hope that he could stay in the home. I still marvel that she packed up her Wall Street career to come back to NJ to help her parents and take over the running of their apple picking farm. This gesture I imagined as rare in our generation, and still deserves my highest respect.

The design process went very well, it's always a collaboration, and a project is only as good as the client. The challenge was that she wanted the addition to be on the North side of the house, always a tricky proposition for getting light into the space. When construction started her father was already well along with dementia and he was busy waving off subcontractors trying to install new utilities to the house, and that they should get away from his property. She stepped right in to get her father in line, and save the dumb founded subcontractors. I marveled again at her executive skills, and that she had taken on the farm, her father, and a construction project all at once.

Her next burden was that the contractor, upon finding a 15 foot diameter boulder during excavation, directly where we wanted to build, proceeded to start a huge charcoal fire to split the rock upon application of water. An ingenious idea but without approval, and nearly burned down the house. Luckily it worked. This is but some of it, and I need not bore you more, but in the end, we both were very happy with the results.

I always enjoyed going back to see her and the happiness she always graciously expressed, and the enjoyment we shared. During her illness she showed her courage to fight, keep her priorities in focus, her enjoyment and appreciation for the life she still had, and her generosity to others. I wish she was still here to salute her personally.

Her friend and architect, Kelly F. Faloon
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Harold Baillie shares this:

In Memory: Debbie

My favorite memory of Debbie is leaning out of the window in the southeastern corner of Saybrook senior year, and talking with her as she leaned out of her window. It was sunny out, wasn\’t it always in New Haven? It was spring, or maybe the preceding fall, but her smile was bright, her voice cheery, and she seemed as taken by the beautiful circumstances as I was. It is not my only memory of Debbie, but it is the one that best expresses her energy, her beauty, her enthusiasm for the moment.

Other memories provide the delight of other moments: her amazed excitement as we went through Big Bertha as we rafted down the Colorado and listening to the wild horses calling each other through the canyons as we drifted off to sleep. Or, closer to home the delight of water skiing on Barnegat Bay after launching off "Post Island."

Still other memories provide a context for her boldness, her courage, her intelligence, and the joy of life that set the context for her presence in the moment. Such as her dad: John, the Great Post. I got a kick out of her nickname for him, and then I worked for him for a while. Kelly, Al and I started the summer painting the farm.

When I finished the barn, he told me to paint the Riamede logo over the doors facing the driveway. Painting buildings is one thing, painting logos another. I told Great Post I had no idea how to paint a logo. Yet he insisted with the bemused confidence that I suspect gave Debbie her boldness (cf Al\’s remarks on her trip to Hong Kong, and for that matter, around the world with a backpack) Great Post said to me "Oh, you will figure it out." I did but I suspect it was painted over before he took Debbie to New Haven that fall.

My logo was not my only joint effort with the great Post that had a challenging outcome. Toward the end of the summer, he gave Al and me in essence a staple gun and some pre- formed chicken wire, and we made yards of row houses for chickens, with plastic "basements" that would capture the chicken poop and wash it down to the end of the row, where it could drain into a huge chicken cesspool. Feeding was intended to be automatic too, but I never saw that aspect of the design put in place. Moreover and sadly, I never saw a Post Chicken in Whole Foods.

This was also the guy who took Al and me down to Barnegat Bay one winter morning to hook up a water line from a dock on the land side to Post Island, so he could have running water. He had the whole Rube-Goldberg contraption worked out, using a combination of galvanized pipe and garden hose which Al and I then put together, hooked onto the spigot on the land side, rowed across the channel dropping a weighted garden hose as we went, and hooked it up to a waiting water pipe system on the island. It was bitter cold, totally illegal, but he then graciously took us out to warm us up and console our legal concerns over a boiler-maker or two. At least for a while it worked, and when I had the privilege of visiting the island the following summer- to the best of my recollection - it still worked. It is clear why she loved the character so.

But the main thing Great Post did was develop and pass on to Debbie the farm. We all know it, we have all been there, and we all saw how much she loved it. Her mother, Janet, loved it as well. It became my family\’s source of apple cider, as in fall you might find Debbie (if at home) and her mom creating wonderful, tasty, natural, fresh squeezed apple cider, flies, and all. Her mother insisted the flies were the secret ingredient that made it true right off the farm cider.

Those stories give you some idea of where Debbie came from and the origin of her adventurous, creative, enthusiastic, never say die spirit. A magna cum laude philosophy major, a Wall Street financial wizard, solo backpacker in Asia and Africa, apple farmer, wife and mother; no one does it all, but Debbie came closer than anyone I know. Her last gift was to again pull the Yale group together in sorrowful celebration of this magical person we had the privilege to call a friend.
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Timothy Madden remembers Debbie:

I knew Debbie through our dearest mutual friend, Liz Pike from our days at Chase.

I was a 23 year old teaching instructor when Debbie rolled thru Chase in the infamous Credit Course 5. Apart from many NYC social events my main memory of her that I would like to share was in 1974. I was working for Chase in Jakarta and as the inveterate traveller as she was, I drove her to the airport at midnight on a Sunday night. The airport was dark and basically empty and tongue in cheek I don't remember if she was flying to the Outer Hebrides on New Caledonian Airlines or flying to New Caledonia on Outer Hebrides Airlines. So Debbie-a real trooper with that smile and twinkle in her eye and a zest for travel and life.