Upon hearing of the passing of Norma Reynolds, we wrote to her daughter: "So sorry, Vicki. A special woman. I counted Norma as a friend." Vicki's response: "Thank you for your kind words. She was always yelling at all of us to respond to Lona."

In Norma Reynold's case less was more and more was anything but less. Less of Norma was more than most people. More couldn't be because Norma was what she was and didn't hide it.

She was a fisherman's daughter - where the guts came from as people on the water ask no quarter and give none - raising four kids on her own when "single" mothers weren't fashionable. Norma was also a female force in East End real estate when that wasn't fashionable either. In fact, it was downright uppity.

Norma Reynolds - a class act.

I wrote about Norma, both as a local product who made good and as a pioneer woman in real estate, a tough business for any gender. Starting out with the telephone company to put bread on the table with hours that fit Mom requirements, Norma discovered that real estate could fit as well. That was the beginning.

The East End work ethic built in, Norma worked hard. If a man, at that time they would have said 'great business person, smarts, talent and unrelenting effort,' but it was a 'lady.' They called her tough.

Yes, well, too bad, Norma stood up to them all, succeeded and raised her family. They did not make it easy. But neither did squalls, fish migrations, government "desk job" interference, or the politics of sports fisherman lobbies make it easy for those who worked the water.

Like our sturdy fishermen, an endangered species, almost gone, Norma Reynolds was not a whiner, a complainer, a "look what they're doing to me" person. Carrying a briefcase of litigation, she told me that she called herself 'Norma Sue', because - in our uncivil Civil Justice System - her sorry competition tossed lawsuits at her at will. Talk about stress and strength.

But I have a personal Norma Reynolds story that revealed to me the extraordinary person that she was.

In the 1980s when I went into business, I realized that real estate was an undertaking in which one couldn't tread water, so to speak, because the rip tides would wash you away. You had to expand. I learned about a lone undertaking in Southampton on Hampton Road (location, location, location) that was going out of business.

I couldn't handle the new office start-up on my own, nor did I think Lona Rubenstein, Inc. covered that territory. What about this Norma Reynolds? West of the canal, east of the canal, we would cover it all - and share the expenses. I called, introduced myself, and met Norma in Southampton Village in July, bucking traffic, to discuss the idea. Unlike a Sears order, it couldn't be done over the phone, not for someone as thorough as Norma.

I only had my license for three years. "Who was this upstart?" she must have asked, who had the audacity to flaunt her Jewish name (Lona Rubenstein, Inc.) in Maidstone territory? Never having run into any of that garbage out east raising my kids, it never occurred to me that naming your business as your business, was gutsy.

We got past the first interview. She would keep her Westhampton Beach business and I would keep the East Hampton Village operation, and we would joint venture in Southampton Village as "Reynolds and Rubenstein."

In August, Norma wanted to meet again to see my East Hampton operation. We were very busy back then. I arranged for a Thursday late August visit and lunch. Traffic was horrendous, business was wild, parking non-existent; visitors facing departure panicked they'd never get back here again. Yet, we would meet to move the deal forward.

Thursday morning, I had a crisis. A business crisis. Who remembers what? Only that it was complicated, needed attention, among all the other targeted vectors aimed at me also needing attention. The office was scurrying, agents preparing for the weekend, phones clamoring for instant answers. I was on a few lines at once.

Amidst it all, Norma walked in. Looking drive weary (one and a half hours from Westhampton Beach) and time pressed (her office was extremely busy as well), trusty briefcase packed with versus 'Norma Sue' complaint jargon, at her side. I could barely look up.

Papers, piled high on my desk, rummaging through as I talked calmly on the red lights blinking phone, but looking eminently anguished, abruptly I gasped, "Oh, my G-d! Norma! Oh my G-d! I just don't have the time today."

Then I had to get back to a needy, angry person at the other end of the phone.

No cell phones then, she had made the long trip on a busy, traffic ridden late August Thursday, and had struggled for a parking spot in the Reutershan lot.

Watching for but a moment, her face revealing nothing, "I can see that," she said. "We'll have to reschedule." Then with a wave, Norma Reynolds turned around and left.

Norma Reynolds? A class act. What you saw was what you got and that was plenty. May she rest in peace. Polonius' advice to Laertes, "…this above all to thine own self be true," was a mantra for Norma's life on this planet.

Any industry and place that can produce a Norma Reynolds may be strange, but it is extraordinary, as well.