Remembering Diane
Every so often in life, you are lucky enough to meet someone who makes you better at things. Someone who is a lot of fun to be around. Someone who helps you see into your blindspots.
In Diane O’Neill, I had all of those things. And so did many whose paths she crossed.
Those of you who know me well know that she is the person who told me to start Pencil or Ink. She’s also the person who made me a better New Yorker.
Just before Christmas, we lost Diane. She passed suddenly and peacefully. But far too soon.
Here’s what I said at a service in her memory. (I’ve debated whether or not to share this, but since she told me to start this little company, it seems fitting that you learn more about her. I’ve edited out parts about her family and closest friends.)
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Diane would end most of our meet-ups saying “I appreciate you, Ellie.”
Reflexively, I’d respond - “it’s mutual, Diane.”
It’s mutual, Diane.
I had the privilege of knowing Diane O’Neill as a colleague, a mentor, a client, a fellow student at Oxford, and most of all as a friend.
She was my best friend.
She might have been yours, too.
She probably was.
Diane’s impact on this world is hard to quantify.
She had the most amazing way of meeting a new person. It was like she was already a year into the friendship - and they were just catching up to her.
She was fully present and engaged with each person she met.
She was kind.
A waiter would seat her in a restaurant, and by the time I took off my coat, they’d have a shared joke and Diane would tell me their name and introduce me as another friend joining the catch-up. She’d refer back to the joke later and we’d all laugh again.
She would always tip in cash - because it makes all the difference in the world to the person receiving it.
I recall once meeting her in a hotel lobby - and after a moment or two, the doorman said, “I think I know you…” Diane had a look of recognition - “Andre?” They realised she had interviewed him for a job years ago. He said, “Wow, it’s so great to see you. You really changed my life.” I could see they were clearly old friends.
But - on he walked - and I said, “Wow, Diane, how brilliant that giving him that job turned things around.”
The punchline of course, was Diane then explaining “Oh, Ellie, I didn’t give him the job - we just had a conversation. I gave him a little advice.”
As one of our graduate-school friends said, “Diane cares more about your career than about her own.”
She was always there with clarity, advice, and that amazing wit. (I will alternate between tenses - it is hard to say was. Diane is.)
She tells us what we need to hear, not what we want to hear, and manages to do it with kindness and humour - and have fun along the way.
Over the years, I’ve seen her have this effect on everyone she met, from colleagues, doormen, waitresses, CEOs, receptionists, to university deans.
The acting dean of our business school said “Diane had empathy, warmth and a love of learning . All characteristics of great leaders. Diane was a humble yet influential person”
A rare combination.
Whoever she met, she would start a year into that friendship.
Can you remember when you first met her? I bet she did the same with you.
Just as she did with me, over a decade ago.
She was working at Starwood, I was at a vendor company. At our first meeting, she pulled me close, like an old friend, and told me exactly what I needed to know about why the big boss was a bit more demanding than usual that day.
She did it with empathy for them and for me.
After Starwood, Starbucks. Now some of you will know that, over the years, through different jobs, I was Diane’s executive coach. Which is kind of a strange thing to say, given that she was everyone’s de facto coach.
And those of you who know me well, know that Diane was always the one coaching and mentoring me.
In fact, I realised I had to leave that vendor job - before I had even started coaching Diane.
I’d just had a baby and was struggling. I had a catch-up meeting with Diane that week - my last week on the job. (We always had breakfast meetings - she’d bring the waffles to her office by Penn Station.)
Diane said that day, she’d like to start working with a coach. Knowing that I was leaving my company, I quickly said, “You should work with my colleague Dave.”
To my amazement, she said firmly, kindly, with no room for debate: “Ellie, it’s going to be you.”
I don’t know what she saw in me at that moment. But I think on some level she knew I needed her more than she needed me.
It’s no overstatement to say that moment changed my life.
After a few coaching sessions (with me as a subcontractor for my old company), she said “So when are you going to launch your own business? I don’t wanna keep writing these checks to some dude.”
So I did - and with Diane’s counsel - it’s gone well. Because when I struggle, she’s there to support, call me out, and get me out of my own way.
Now, I will continue to ask “What would Diane do?”
When I mused about going back to university, she was my champion and cheerleader. I said, “Maybe I should get that coaching credential? I was trained in house.” She said, “Ellie. Puh-lease. You can coach, You’ve been doing it for years. Do something that gets you excited!”
So I looked at studying leadership at Oxford University.
Of course, I asked her for a recommendation and she obliged.
And she said - “by the way, I wanna come, too.”
And so began another adventure.
We had a life changing time. It changed our lives. But in the past few days, I have learned that Diane’s Oxford journey changed the lives of a lot of other people, too.
Her Oxford classmates have shared so many wonderful reflections of Diane. (And our friend Aduke, who also sent these beautiful flowers.)
I will share more of the following recollections with the family in writing soon. And I will read just a few now:
Varin:" “in a short time, she has come to be a very special person in my life. …We have our special brunches where we would walk away feeling so nourished and special.” If you know Diane, you will know that feeling. And I want to add - Diane was asked to give a lecture at Oxford University this year - instead of keeping that career-peak opportunity to herself, she enlisted Varin and they did it together. Naturally, they did an amazing job.
Sevil: “Diane brimmed with energy, authenticity, and an incredible smile that radiated love for life and people. [I want to add, on the topic of her smile, that our friend Liz’s biggest regret is not having asked for the name of Diane’s dentist…] Back to Sevil: She also extended her support to a tennis charity event I organized for Ukrainian refugees in Ireland, reaching out with empathy and offering donations.”
Ijeoma: Diane told Ijeoma to study black women in tech for her thesis - and “she sent me articles and resources to cite”. We all know that that is so Diane, - she doesn’t just say something to help, she gives you the tools and encouragement that make all the difference
Lara: “Diane was always your biggest fan and most astute listener”. I know many of you here today can see that in Diane, too.
Zoltan and Diane would text a lot: ”My favourite message from her (when I was bogged down in a silly dilemma) , “Ya - quit your job get rid of anything that doesn’t serve you and have a blast! Keep the family😉”
Hayley: “I overheard her talking about her favorite pair of high heels. I asked if she wore them often, to which she turned to me and said ‘Oh Hayley, listen. There are three colors, black, white, and my red high heels. And they come everywhere with me.’ We both laughed and THAT is how I always thought of her. A confident champion, a devoted mother, a loyal friend, and an absolutely hilarious wit”
Speaking of that wit…
Liz recalled fondly “the cheeky cigarette emoji Diane sent me after I met Justin Trudeau.”
There are many more of these reflections from many, many more people.
They are all marked by candor, kindness, and humor.
Her colleague Beth reflected “Diane said something to me once that has served as my answer any time someone asks me the best piece of feedback I’ve ever received. She wouldn’t allow me to be small as a woman.”
She wouldn’t allow any of us to be small.
[I’ve redacted some content about Diane’s family and closest friends here.]
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In between dark moments of sadness and anger that we lost her far too soon, part of me wonders if she hadn’t known something about her time with us being limited.
She always told people how she cared about them - not many people do that.
She walked away from a toxic work situation even though it meant also walking away from hefty bonus payout. Not many people do that.
She lived in different places, tried different things. She encouraged us all to do the same.
Over the last few years, Diane said she stopped giving people physical gifts, but instead giving experiences.
A spa day. A Broadway show. A lovely meal.
She was also proud not to be tied down by a mortgage. To be able to travel. To try new things.
She combined prudence and care, with living in the moment.
I am so grateful for that - not least because we spent many of those quality times together. But also because she truly lived her life to the full.
Experiences, memories, leaving behind what doesn’t serve you (..keep the family though!). Those things are living well.
Diane made me a better New Yorker - after a spell away from here, she returned. “let’s not just exist in NYC Ellie, let’s LIVE here.” Let’s see the shows. Let’s meet up at the Plaza. Let’s order pancakes for the table (with our eggs).
She also walked around this city and didn’t do what most of us do - she didn’t do what I do. It’s so easy here to not touch the sides, not to engage with the people around you.
Diane genuinely cared for everyone. And her actions showed it.
We once met for breakfast mid-pandemic - outdoors, for a walk. Martin dropped her off in Brooklyn, of course. We were hungry and had a lot to cover. We talked about how starving we felt - and got some sandwiches at Starbucks (shout out to Starbucks) and headed off, down Montague Street towards the Brooklyn Heights promenade.
A homeless man said something as we passed. I - to my shame - simply ignored him and shrugged off the ensuing discomfort. Diane said, “did he say something to us, Ellie?” Yes, Diane. Without breaking her stride, she turned and handed him her unopened sandwich, then walked on. And didn’t reference that moment or her hunger again.
Once I suggested a Sunday meet-up. Diane said she had church. I offered to meet on Saturday instead. She said, quietly, “oh I’ll just put in a shift at the soup kitchen instead. All good.” She didn’t want to make a big deal of it.
So as we think of our friend, with many tough days ahead of us. Let’s think about how Diane lived and how she will live on in all of us.
Let’s always tip in cash.
Let’s be the good New Yorker - let’s see the shows - but also SEE the people around us.
Let’s give generously and quietly.
Let’s order pancakes for the table.
Let’s embrace experiences over material things - but let’s also wear the red high heels.
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I appreciate you, Diane. We all do.