Too many good byes

Living in one's hometown forever has a myriad of advantages, especially in the people realm. Though Sandpoint has changed dramatically in the past decade, I still often rejoice while coming in contact with pockets of local and familiar faces. There's a flip side to the good ol' hometown familiarity, however.

I know I'm not alone in experiencing the ever-increasing moments of sadness when local obituary columns are filled with faces and names I've known forever. This morning's paper provides yet another example of the cruel reality that "good byes" here are becoming much too redundant.

Today our community must say good bye to Tom DeMers, Harry Roberson and Dona Meehan. I know that it would take several sets of fingers and toes to add up the years I've known these three Sandpoint folks who passed away over the past few days. In fact, I probably have to go back to childhood in all three cases, so that's definitely 150 years.

All left positive marks in my book. I knew of Tom as horseman, as former Ponderay mayor Jessie's husband and as my former students, Dave and Duffy's dad. He reared some great kids, including his daughter, whom I did not teach. Dave, I happen to know the best because he was a student of mine and later an admired teaching colleague. Since my retirement, Dave and I have remained good friends.

Tom DeMers was always friendly, always willing to tell a story. His obituary this morning stressed how much he loved his family, and that was always evident.

Another proud but humble family man was Harry Roberson, who never failed to stop and say hi wherever we met. I was always amazed at his dedication to long-distance running, and I'm wondering just when he ran his last Bloomsday because it seemed like every year he was training for the next year's race.

Harry, along with his wife Frankie, have been true community gems, always humble about their many contributions and always true-blue friendly souls. My connection with the family was especially meaningful during the '80s when Erica, their exchange student from Brazil, came to stay for the year.

She is a delightful person, and after she returned to Brazil, she usually dominated every conversation when I'd meet Frankie or Harry in the grocery store. A few years ago when Erica came for a visit, the Robersons invited me to their beautiful farm at Bottle Bay to visit with her and her daughter. They loved Erica as their own, and they already had five wonderful children of their own.

The first thought that ever comes to mind with Dona Meehan is "Bless This House." I'll never forget the day in Mrs. Beck's fifth grade class at Lincoln School, when Mrs. Ekholm opened the door between the fifth and sixth grade rooms and introduced Dona Meehan. Mrs. Meehan had just arrived in the school district as the elementary music teacher.

When she sang "Bless This House," I was blown away. I had never heard such a melodious sound come from a human being and resonate throughout the rooms so beautifully. That day I decided to become a singer. My mother's constant reminders that I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket did nothing to stop me from signing up for Dona Meehan's choir class in the seventh grade at Sandpoint Junior High.

Dona never once told me I couldn't sing, although I'm sure she wanted to. She constantly encouraged me, and it was only the day at the music contest in Coeur d'Alene when fellow choir member Grace Nordgaarden Brixen asked if I was singing the same song as the rest of the choir that I began to believe my mother's earlier assessments of my singing ability.

Dona, like my mother who dealt with my mail theft at age 5, knew of me as a criminal at age 12. We revisited that infamous crime scene just months ago when we both attended Bud Moon's funeral at the old junior high aka Sandpoint Events Center. We met and giggled at the very spot where Dona caught me down on all fours removing nuts and bolts from the auditorium seats and marched me to the front of the room.

Later, my co-conspirators and I brought back all of our pilfered booty (which was significant and which could have caused quite the calamity at the next event in the auditorium) and paid the price for our vandalism by doing community service projects within the school. That was the only way we would ever be eligible for honor society and that our parents would never learn of our misdeeds.

In spite of my poor judgment as a seventh grader, Dona forgave me and even seemed to like me as an adult. We taught English together at Sandpoint High, and I'll never forget the night Bill and I dined at a Hope restaurant on an anniversary when two glasses of wine were sent to our table, compliments of Dave and Dona Meehan.

All these people have played memorable and positive roles in my life, and as I continue to do far too often these days in the old hometown, I say good bye to each of them and thank them for their friendship. In all cases, theirs were lives well lived, and they will be missed.