obituaries – Cindy Hval

Having the last word

April 23, 2026 Cindy Hval

It’s a daunting task to sum up a life in a few paragraphs.

Yet every week, the newspaper obituary section is filled with stories told by loved ones left behind.

From birth overseas to military families to a couple of ladies who wanted to have the last word, here are a few snapshots of community members who’ve passed away.

On Dec. 12, 1945, the New York Times reported Graham DeLong’s arrival in the U.S. Eight-month-old Graham and his mother, Joyce, a World War II bride, arrived on one of the first ships sent by Congress to ferry military dependents to the States during the war.

They settled in Montana, where his father joined them after his service.

Graham served in the military during the Vietnam War. He enjoyed a long career at Kaiser Aluminum Trentwood and opened Graham’s Graphics post-retirement.

He died Nov. 22, and was preceded in death by his beloved wife, Linda.

The family wrote, “Mom and Dad, we imagine you dancing to music, sipping coffee, and enjoying pastries together once more. Thank you for your example of hard work, selfless love, perseverance, and wholehearted devotion to family. We will carry your legacy forward.”

Paul Cooley was born in Naples, Italy, to American Army Air Corps Staff Sergeant Ralph B. Cooley and Filippina Russo Cooley, an Italian native.

He moved to Spokane as a baby and was soon joined by his sister JoAnn, twin sisters Barbara and Beverly, and finally a brother, Robert, all within five years. Paul’s large extended family led to many holiday gatherings and parties filled with pasta, music and games.

Paul loved teaching and coaching, and his career in education spanned 30 years.

Patrick Michael Molvik, 58, died unexpectedly in October.

His obituary said, “He leaves behind a world he made brighter, smarter, and kinder – and a legacy that hums in every wire he repaired, every student he inspired, and every life he gently guided.”

“Patrick was a modern-day renaissance man, a true polymath whose curiosity knew no limits. He was passionate about more things than time or space could ever hold, and could never resist discovering how things worked. Radios, engines, and computers often found themselves spread across his workbench, awaiting the patient precision of his hands. He brought broken things back to life – not just machines but sometimes spirits too.”

Brian Miller’s obituary described him as quiet and studious, avoiding the spotlight. However, his contributions significantly impacted a device most of us use daily – the cellphone.

An electrical engineer who graduated from the University of Colorado at Boulder with a 4.0 GPA, he held multiple patents from his time at Hewlett-Packard in Liberty Lake and its spin-off companies. His work helped revolutionize cellular technology.

“If you have a cell phone, in some way you know Brian,” read his obituary.

He also spent decades volunteering for the Spokane Audubon Society.

“If you’ve enjoyed the sound of the birds at a Spokane area wildlife refuge, you know Brian.”

His memorial concluded, “You may not think you knew Brian. But you did – you do. You know him in the technology you use, the nature you enjoy, and the relationships you cherish. You know him in the way the room feels when it’s full of laughter, and the way a warm spring breeze feels on your face.”

Penny Ann Sanders managed her own life all the way to the end when she penned her obit.

“All of my life I have tried to be in charge,” she wrote. “When I felt I was not, I always knew why. My Lord was in charge, and by His word, I knew I had to obey or else. His final word to me was, ‘It is time to come home.’ I lifted my arms in the air and said ‘yes,’ and off I went, not to look back or question.

“Still being in charge before I go, I have asked that there be no service. I have always hated services, it is just a time to cry, sing songs that the family had to pick out, and hope that they picked the right ones, and order flowers hoping that the person that just passed likes them.”

She further directed, “I know people hate that when there is no service, and they feel that they didn’t get to say goodbye, but just look up and wave to the sky and shout ‘GOODBYE PENNY!’ ”

Sometimes having the last word is a gift to those you’ve left behind.

Laura Jean Sweet died in November and asked the following to be included in her obituary:

“Now that I’m gone, remember me with smiles and laughter, and if you need to cry, cry with your brother or sister who walks in grief beside you. …

“Look for me in the people I’ve known or helped in some special way. Let me live in your heart and in your mind. …

“Love does not die, people do. So that when what is left of me is love, give me away as best you can.”

Columns

Finding good advice and humor in the obituaries

January 29, 2026 Cindy Hval

Obituaries not only offer snapshots of our community, but they often include bits of wisdom, sound advice and flashes of humor.

Robert (Bob) Dunning, who died at 94, was known for his sharp wit, curiosity and endless supply of interesting facts.

He could tell you that ponderosa pines smell like vanilla and that cussing is scientifically proven to be therapeutic. Dunning didn’t believe in giving people 100%. His obituary summed up his philosophy thusly, “Give 60% most days, 80% on good days, and when you feel like giving 100%, it will feel like you’re giving 120%.”

I’m no mathematician, but that adds up for me.

Dan Zimmerman enjoyed a varied career. He was a photographer for Q6, a Washington State Patrol trooper and a lineman for Grant County Public Utility District.

But he also had a surprising claim to fame.

Zimmerman was one of the three “Whistling Midgets” from Davenport – a group whose unique talent earned them an appearance on “The Gong Show.”

Joyce Lee Nonnemacher’s talents didn’t garner a television appearance, but they made a difference in her community.

The Reardon resident never missed a chance to help at the Lincoln County Hospital Foundation’s annual luncheon. Her cookie jar was never empty, and her garden was always blooming. She was known for her kindness, humor, and her signature question to friends and neighbors: “Are you behaving yourself?”

As a farmer’s daughter, she waited to die until harvest and seeding were finished.

I would have loved to hang out with Marilyn Dollarhide because her mothering style mirrored mine.

The mother of seven could be a banty hen – quick to defend and protect her chicks, whom she loved fiercely. Her home was loud and filled with laughter, and there was always a place at the table for her children’s friends.

But as much as Marilyn loved the chaos of family life, she appreciated serenity when it arrived. She would say, “I love fall – my favorite colors are everywhere, harvest and fall work are done, the vegetable garden is put to sleep for the year, the kids are back to school, and my house is quiet during the day. A glorious season.”

I couldn’t agree more.

After writing for this newspaper for 20 years, it’s no surprise that the obituary section often includes folks I’ve interviewed.

When I saw Kathy Ludders’ notice, I thought her name seemed familiar. Then I read, “Kathy learned from her mother that everything is in walking distance, if you walk long enough,” and the pieces clicked together.

I interviewed Kathy and her husband, John, in 2021 for a story about their volunteer work with Dishman Hills Conservancy.

The couple met in 1966 on a blind date hiking in the Crystal Mountains of the Cascades. Over their 57 years of marriage, they hiked all over the world.

I enjoyed meeting Herb Genteman in 2024, when I wrote a story about his family-owned business, The Sports Creel – Spokane’s oldest ski store.

Genteman died in November. His obituary describes him as a “Hobie sailer, Heli-skier. Sand bagger, skins stealer. Cereal slurper, sidewalk sweeper. Entertainer, car detailer. A storyteller, so captivating, one never sees that punchline lurking just around the corner.”

If that’s not enough, he also had “a golf swing only Charles Barkley would envy, and a putter that opponents loved to hate.”

Larry Tobin died on Oct. 25.

We met when I wrote a story about him and his friends and their vintage Stearman biplanes. I had intended to keep my feet on the ground during the interview. However, Tobin insisted that I experience what it’s like to soar over Spokane in an open cockpit aircraft. It’s a thrill I’ve never forgotten, and I’m forever glad I listened to him.

Flight features prominently in Gary Cook’s obituary.

Cook had a passion for adventure, discovery and exploration.

His family wrote, “Gary leaves behind a series of partially-used frequent flier miles and a long-suffering family who consistently worried about his whereabouts until they received a phone call or postcard from remote corners around the world.”

They had this request: “In lieu of flowers, please book a flight somewhere you have never been, get outdoors, and toast the end of a long and very well-traveled road.”

Now, that’s good advice.

Columns

Obituaries: snapshots of lives in the community

October 29, 2025 Cindy Hval

The heartwarming response to my revival of Shawn Vestal’s periodic obituary columns revealed that I’m not alone in my appreciation of the portraits obits paint of our community.

After the column ran, I came across a comment on my Facebook page from a former S-R photographer.

“Obituaries are the history of our community and stories that the newspaper has missed,” he wrote. “Possibly the best and most relevant content in the paper.”

Here are a few more of those stories.

Susan Emry died at 71. She captured her future husband’s attention at a party by saying supercalifragilisticexpalidocious backwards. He charmed her by tuning his harmonica in orange soda.

Together they raised three children, teaching them to be charitable, truthful, grateful and forgiving.

She loved numbers and good food, and her parting words were often “Go be great today!”

Mike Lewis died on Aug. 18, but his stories live on. He often held court at the dinner table, regaling his family with tales of his childhood. He told of the time he worked an entire summer on a farm for an ice cream cone. He dug a basement by hand, had a pitchfork run through his thigh while hiding from his cousin in the hay, and once had to paint the bottom of his feet black, so it looked like his shoes had soles.

In addition to his stories, his reliability became his legacy. Mike showed up for his kids and grandkids. Games, recitals, birthdays – if it was important to them, it was important to him. Through gestures big and small, he was available, involved and supportive. His steady presence left a lasting impact.

Leaving a legacy of a well-lived life is a worthy goal, and that’s what was said of Chad Manley.

The lifelong music lover died at 53, but his memory echoes with wit, kindness, hard work and sacrifice.

His obituary says, “Cancer may have caused Chad’s death, but it never defined his life.”

He spent his final year making lasting memories with his wife, reconnecting with old friends, and listening to birds sing. Even while enduring daily radiation treatments, he said, “I’m not dying – I’m finally living.”

Lena Windishar was not only beloved by her seven children but also by their friends.

Her kids learned to dance because she and her husband, Frank, danced in their living room and taught them.

They learned how to be fully present for others, watching Lena care for her parents, and experiencing her focused attention over a cup of tea at the kitchen table.

She was so full of life that it took a while for her to say goodbye.

Her last four years were spent in and out of hospice care. She’d appear to fail, only to come raring back. Her obit put it this way: “Seriously, does anyone get kicked out of hospice? Lena did, three times.”

While usually focused on others, she did indulge in a bit of self-care by purchasing salty/crunchy snacks for herself and stashing them away.

At the reception following her funeral, salty snacks were served.

Sometimes an obituary hits close to home.

On Sept. 14, we lost our neighbor, Brian Chaffee, at 69.

We’ve lived next door to the Chaffees for 32 years and raised our families side by side. Brian kept a finger on the pulse of the neighborhood and was always ready to lend a hand. He and Derek enjoyed long over-the-fence chats.

This summer, I ran into Brian on my afternoon walk. We caught up on our kids and grandkids, his face beaming with pride as he spoke of his family. He said he was walking to get in shape for “motorcycle season.”

Brian loved riding motorcycles with his sons, and that’s what he spent the last day of his life doing. His death following a race was an unexpected shock.

His obituary offered a snapshot of the life he lived and the people he loved, but I would add just one more thing.

He was a good neighbor.

All Write, Columns

Obituaries tell the story of a community

September 11, 2025 Cindy Hval

Since Shawn Vestal’s departure from The Spokesman-Review a couple of years ago, what I miss most are his semi-regular recaps of local obituaries.

Each column started with this: “One obituary is a portrait of a life. Several taken together form a portrait of a community.”

When I ran into Shawn at a recent Northwest Passages event, I asked if it would be OK with him if I revived the format in my column.

The following snapshots gleaned from recent obituaries introduced me to people I wish I’d known. People like Mari (Jensen) Clack.

Mari, a Democrat, married Dave, a Republican, and they enjoyed 65 years together before her death on Aug. 2. That’s not to say every day was harmonious, as this story reveals.

“Christmastime brought good cheer as well – most of the time. Dave famously added two stocking stuffers to Mari’s Christmas stocking without Santa’s approval. The first was a big, baby blue Hoover vacuum, and the second was a 15-passenger Dodge van to haul everyone’s kids to activities. The vacuum was re-gifted to Dave immediately, and the van made it two years before Santa or Jesus told Dave to replace it with a yellow Porsche.”

Her life was marked by numerous personal and professional accomplishments, including the co-founding of the Women Helping Women Fund in 1992. The fund has raised over $7 million for more than 600 grants and scholarships.

Mari expressed her faith in a letter she wrote when she learned she had breast cancer.

“When humans show their potential, it shows the wonder of divinity – of God – of a higher power – and the beauty of the universe – a wondrous environment, tempered only by the persistence of ignorance and greed. God works through the deeds of good people doing good things.”

Other obituaries leave lingering questions.

Richard Stanley “Stan” Hallett died on Aug. 8. He played golf, ping-pong, basketball and baseball. He enjoyed rec league softball well into his 70s. His obit said his softball career ended when “he got walloped in the shin. Some of you might remember that.”

Wouldn’t you like to know the rest of that story?

Ethel Mae DeStefano reached the century mark. She served as personal secretary to First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt!

Ethel Mae enjoyed a happy hour Bud, and cheering for the Mariners and Gonzaga.

She spent the majority of her life in Spokane, raising seven children with her husband, Ray. Her motto was “the more the merrier,” and she created a home where everyone felt welcome.

Often, the simplest things leave a lasting impression.

Clifford “Cliff” Kelly loved to travel, cook, drink wine, watch the 49ers and the Mariners, and read a good book.

His family and friends said they will always remember him as a kind old soul with a lovely laugh and a penchant for breaking into song.

Ellis Allan “Mac” McEachern joined the Army in 1943 and was assigned to the 101st Airborne Division. He took part in five combat jumps during World War II and fought in the Normandy campaign, the Ardennes, Rhineland, and the Battle of the Bulge. He earned six service medals, including the Bronze Star.

After retiring from Lockheed at age 55, he moved to Spokane. He spent a good part of his retirement years thinking about how he could improve a process to save time or offer more convenience. He built “contraptions” to make a process more efficient. Solving problems with his inventions became his passion.

He lived independently in his home until he died at the age of 101.

Not everyone gets to see the fullness of their years. Some lives are tragically cut short. Even so, they can leave a lasting legacy.

Sarah Doxey died on July 16. She was 48.

She loved books, podcasts, documentaries and deep conversations. She laughed loudly. She did hard things. She put her makeup on in the car. She drank Red Bull instead of coffee. Sarah embraced people for who they were and created space for everyone to feel seen.

Her obituary listed ways to honor her. “Go on the vacation. Take the leap. Wear the shorts. Hug your kids. Call your friend. Go for the run.”

I never met Sarah, but in her honor, I’m doing all of the above.

Except the run is a 3-mile walk because I know my limits.

I think Sarah would understand.