Reading newspaper obituaries offers more than just a snapshot of our community and the people who graced it. Those column inches often introduce me to new role models.
Navy veteran Judith Renee Lasswell was just a year younger than me when she passed away in January.
Her obituary suggests that the best way to honor her values and her memory is to support and frequent your local library. Wherever Lasswell lived, she got a library card.
“Also, enjoy a good glass of wine, watch a movie (extra points if it’s scary), and of course, pet all the dogs.”
Those seem worthwhile goals, but I’m going to pet all the cats, too.
Patricia Kearsley had a keen ability to live in the moment. She’d stop her afternoon to dance to the Pointer Sisters on a tiny trampoline.
She felt comfortable in groups, but she also appreciated a quiet moment with a good book in her big blue chair. (Note to self: Buy a big blue chair.)
Kearsley became “Poppy,” a beloved grandma known for her sense of humor and always having orange slice candy on hand.
Her family writes that it was devastating to watch Alzheimer’s steal her spirit, but offered the following comfort.
“She imbued her friends and family with her sense of fun, adventure, and thoughtfulness, and the Patti party will continue, even though she’s gone.”
Sharon Clark had a rare gift for bringing joy into ordinary moments – often by making up songs on the spot, filling car rides and daily routines with laughter.
Going to a movie with her must have been a hoot. It seems she was famous for smuggling in a personal pan pizza or candy to mix into the popcorn.
The candy I can see – but a personal pan pizza shows absolute ingenuity!
Ruth “Mary” Kyle sounds a bit like my mom.
“She showed love by feeding you, worrying about you, and making sure you were properly dressed for the weather.”
Raised by her grandma, some of her happiest memories were of time spent in Granny’s garden, picking cucumbers and onions and nibbling green beans and snap peas fresh from the vine.
Those simple pleasures continued into her adulthood. She always had a bowl of cucumbers and onions chilling in the fridge.
Her obituary speaks of her legacy.
“She leaves behind not only those who loved her, but the laughter of summers by the pool, the smell of fresh bakery sweets, and the quiet memory of Granny’s garden – cucumbers, onions, and all.”
Kathryn Routson was known for fun and for her wild, independent spirit.
Growing up in the Canadian Rockies, she danced the polka at her parents’ parties, raced her father’s Chevy truck against the neighborhood boys (and won), and she petted a wild bear on a dare. A photo of the encounter reveals a can of beer in her other hand.
I don’t aspire to pet a bear, but I would love to be remembered the way her family thinks of her. “Kathy’s eyes were often happy.”
Rosa Lee Kendall Morin is described as the kind of person who said yes more often than no, faced life directly and loved a good adventure. She had grit and she wore it proudly.
She believed deeply in showing up – whether that meant across town or across the country, often with a cake. She loved fiercely, laughed easily and taught by example that resilience and kindness are not opposites but partners.
Morin accepted people as they were, found humor in the absurd and had little patience for pretense. If something needed doing, she did it. If something was difficult, she faced it. And if something was funny, even inappropriately so, she was the first to laugh.
Meeting these women through the descriptions their friends and families share in the obituary pages offers a roadmap to a well-lived and well-loved life.
I just wish I knew Sharon Clark’s secret for getting a personal pan pizza into the movies.
Cindy Hval 