Recently in In Memory... Category

Every year without fail, from somewhere - I don't know exactly, I get a birthday reminder for Syd - a week before, another a few days before. I know I subscribed to some service eons ago that sends me this message, but I don't get the reminders for anyone else. No one. And I won't cancel it.

Her's is one of the handful of phone numbers in my mobile directory that I cannot erase. I just can't. Her obituary and some of the newspaper articles written at the time are still on the kitchen bulletin board. They'll stay; I don't know how long.

Happy Birthday, Syd.
You will be missed forever and always.

I stole this picture from Hobie. I hope she doesn't mind. My thoughts are with you, my dear, and your family!

I don't know what play is pictured, I don't when it was painted, but it feels like it's every show, every time.

Yes, I'm a copy-Kitten-Child. Grettir said he was "going pink for October," so I had to find out all about it. Google it, and you find, among a myriad of links, Pink for October.

And in the time it took for me to muck up my site imposing the "Hills-Pink" template on it and (sort of) fixing it again, Grettir had established "Team Tiny Pineapple." That's why he's the guru. As for going "pink," it's really very simple and doesn't involve ANY STRIPES WHATSOEVER - I promise:

Take part in Pink for October, a campaign to help raise awareness of, and money for, breast cancer research as part of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Please join the Tiny Pineapple Team and help raise money for Susan G. Komen for the Cure.

Sunday afternoon we received a call that my Uncle Ron would die that day. His final diagnosis included extremely advanced liver cancer, lung cancer and esophageal cancer. Concerning the rest, either his family thought that was plenty to share with us, or the possibility of the pain associated with continued examinations made them unwarranted. As for his prognosis, if you know anything about end-of-life care, you know the sorts of things that lead a physician to tell you that the patient will die that day. If you don't know, it's best left as I would describe it - unimaginable. Nevertheless, Uncle Ron lingered on until Monday night.

Evidently, the week before he died he felt relatively well and was in good enough shape to attend the funeral of a friend and enjoy the company of his family the day before he entered the hospital. That night, before his hospital admission in the morning, he spoke for the very last time. "I Love You," he said to my Aunt Joan.

A. Ronald Henderson
May 7, 1934 - June 4, 2007

Uncle Ron was a professional photographer for many, many years. His obituary says:

Ron's life passion and hobby was photography, and [he] had the unique pleasure of doing what he loved. As owner of Ashton Henderson Photography, he took great pleasure in capturing the beauty of nature and creating lasting memories with his portrait work.

And, I guess, in the true spirit of always being the photographer, there was no picture with his obituary (also online for the time being here) and I haven't any with me.

But he took countless photographs all those years - a legacy of images. Here are a very, very few examples:

Above is my parents' very favourite picture that Uncle Ron took on the day of their wedding, September 10, 1965. So they took the original and hung it on the wall (without glass). The resultant sun damage, stains and scratches are very pronounced. When Uncle Ron learned that we wanted to use enlargements of their wedding pictures for my Parents' Fortieth Wedding Anniversary and that the best-loved image was damaged, he found the original negative and made a new print (from which I made a SCAN for them to hang). Unfortunately, I have yet to manage a good scan of this picture; I will try again:

Mom & Dad, September 10, 1965

I cropped the black and white photo above from one of the portraits Uncle Ron took at Mom and Dad's reception for their Anniversary invitation. He took a great assortment of coloured and black and white images on that occasion.

Uncle Ron also took all our family portraits. For some odd reason this is the only one I have on my computer at the moment:

My Family, Circa 1979

Uncle Ron, naturally, cannot be held accountable for any wardrobe or coiffure choices. Nor can is he responsible for any vaguely cockeyed looks; it's a small miracle to take a picture in which my eyes AND my father's are open.

I will miss you, Uncle Ron. I look back fondly on the trips the families used to take - staying at The Homestead, going to Yellowstone or The Tetons or to Bozeman. I love the memory of that blue Sears jumpsuit you used to wear and the gallant protection you afforded us from that gander which landed you "in the drink." When I see all the pictures you took, the weddings, funerals, the family gatherings - all the rites of passage it seems - I shall always think of you.

For quite a long time, when someone was dying or had died, a particular song has come to my mind - a lovely piece called "Mark's Song" by Eastmountainsouth.

Here are the lyrics, especially for Glen, for Kari, for Grandma Wanda's Charley, and for Uncle Ron:

may your soul be blessed
may your body rest
on the mountain where you were born
may your spirit soar
where there's joy ever more
may you find your way in peace

and there's no more harm
in your Savior's arms
see you fly away in the sky
did you hear the call of angels one and all
may you find your way in peace

may you know you're loved
may you shine above
on the mountain where you were born
may your spirit soar
there's no pain anymore
may you find your way in peace

and there's no more harm
in your Savior's arms
see you fly away in the sky
did you hear the call of angels one and all

may you find your way in peace
may you find your way in peace
may you find your way in peace

May you find your way in peace, Uncle Ron. And may you find peace, Aunt Joan, Kevin and your family, Janell and your family, and my Grandma L., as well as those members of Uncle Ron's family I do not know.

My dear friend, Gayle (Kari's sister), said it best, "Anyway, to know her is to love her..." I cannot imagine a single person who could disagree with that statement.

On May 15, 2007, after a long but uplifting day of cancer advocacy training in Washington, D.C., for LIVESTRONG Day® (which was Wednesday, May 16, 2007), I read my email. There was a message from Gayle. It said, in part, "I just wanted to let you know that my fantastic and awesome sister, Kari, has finished her fight with cancer. I will miss her so very much." Indeed, everyone will miss her.

Kari Kay Terry Mason

March 27, 1968 - May 14, 2007

I thought about Kari and her family a lot on LIVESTRONG® Day. And it couldn't have brought the "mission" of our efforts into sharper focus. I was part of an advocacy group from all over the country fighting for all stages in the battle through and against cancer: Education, screening and treatment FOR EVERYBODY WHO NEEDS IT, as well as survivorship care, and, if the battle reaches an untimely conclusion, end-of-life care.

Thank you so much, Kari, for being such an inspiration in life and even beyond. Your legacy will continue to motivate and encourage people with your radiant and extraordinary spirit.

If you'd like to read more, please refer to the following:

• Kari's obituary in The Deseret News and The Salt Lake Tribune (still available online here and here with online guestbooks for a limited time).


• Kari's obituary from The Daily Herald (online here with guestbook).


• Kari's obituary on Senicare.com (online here with a guestbook).


• Please visit The Kari Mason Fund website:

  Kari was a unique individual with a sparkling personality and a selflessness that somehow intensified as her pain increased and her physical condition deteriorated.

  In lieu of flowers, Kari's family would appreciate donations through this site to help pay medical expenses and support the future needs of her miracle daughter, Ellie.


• When you visit The Kari Mason Fund, please follow the link from "Her story" to a wonderful article about Kari and her family, "Live Like You Were Dying," featured in Wasatch Woman.

Farewell, Sweet Little Lark (1990 - 2007).

I'm sorry if I let you hurt longer then was necessary. I didn't know you had breast cancer. I didn't know you were dehydrated, too, on top of your other symptoms because you kept using the "pee pads." I'm so very sorry.

This week I've done some things I never thought I'd have to do alone. Thank you for putting up with what was undoubtedly at least partially misguided attempts to minister to your needs. Bless you for seeming unfazed in the car as we drove to the vet and as they examined you. I came back after they put the IV in and I held you while they injected the medication into the tube. You were still so calm; you must have been hurting. Your tiny head dropped right to my shoulder. It was so fast; I found great solace in that. I've seen death, but I've never been through that experience before.

I believe you had a good life. Rest in peace, wee little puppy.

In the middle of December I received a holiday dispatch from dear friends of mine, The Andersons. Amber wrote the letter (with the support of her "posse"):

Emmry Kate, Morgan, Kendyl & Amber

Here's the excerpt from the letter that delighted me the most:

In March the daughter of a former smoker, still known as Glen, encountered the scare of a child's lifetime: the big C. Lung cancer not only brought us together, but it strengthened us all in individual ways. Though my dad can now be referred to as "one-lung Houdy", he is also proudly known as a lung cancer survivor. I now formally believe in miracles. Who knew that my mother who became a teacher because she couldn't be a nurse (couldn't stand the sight of blood) could be the best nurse in the world through two surgeries and three months of chemo? They are my heroes.

This was, truly, unbelievable news. The prognosis for Amber's Father had been extremely grim; this was a thrilling, unforeseen miracle.

Then, a little more than a month ago I received an email from Amber that said, in part:

My dad's recovery from lung cancer was joyous the past 3 months, but suddenly there was a problem, and the cancer spread to his brain. The doctors say he has a week to months to live.

So devastating. Today I received the news that Amber's Father, Glen Houdersheldt, had succumbed to his disease a little more than a week ago. I write this entry in his memory.

Glen F. Houdersheldt

December 10, 1937 - February 16, 2007

Here's a link to his Obituary. And here is a link to the web version with a guestbook you can sign, which will be available, I believe until March 20, 2007.

My deepest sympathies and all my love go out to his family and his friends. I feel deeply honoured to have been acquainted with such a wonderful man - always so full of life and humour; I am truly lucky to know such an incredible family. I believe that it must have been a great blessing that Glen had the comfort of his loving family around him when he died. And as difficult as it was (I cannot conceive of how hard it must have been), I can only imagine that they felt privileged to have been there.

I love you, Amber and Morgan!

I have "mourned" over the last couple of years the fact that I have been living away from what had for so many years become "my city" - Salt Lake City. But in light of what happened last night at Trolley Square it would be utterly ridiculous - the worst possible narcissism for me to use the term "mourn" merely because I miss the life I once had in "my city."

Last night, in a matter of minutes, six people died at Trolley Square* and others were critically wounded. Grief and mourning belongs to those who lost their loved ones who were innocently shopping for Valentine's Day, having birthday dinners, or just spending a night at the mall.

True mourning also belongs to a Bosnian family, having come to this country to escape the horrors of being Muslims in the wrong place and time, and having lived a ravaged, horrific existence. They now are forced to struggle not only with the death of their child and brother, eighteen-year-old Sulejman Talovic, but must grapple with the inexplicable, incomprehensible concept that this "good boy" had become a mass murderer. And no one will ever know why.

I suppose one could be relieved that this didn't take place less than a month ago, during the Sundance Film Festival. I've been to Festival premieres at the theatre directly across the street from Trolley Square. I don't know if the Festival uses those theatres any more, but if they do and that had been the timing, the Trolley Square area would have been filled with thousands of people rather than hundreds. Also, had this massacre been today and not yesterday, I'm sure that there would have been hundreds of additional last-minute Valentine's Day shoppers on the scene.

And I cannot help but think of all the myriad times I went to Trolley Square. I have fond recollections of almost every restaurant and store in the place. Those memories will never seem quite the same. Nevertheless, like the perspective I now have that makes my use of the word "mourning" in terms of my own "loss" seem flippant, I acknowledge that I cannot begin to comprehend what the employees and children and families and individuals who were THERE experienced. Those memories burned an indelible mark in each participant's psyche, I'm certain.

But it's important to acknowledge that there were champions - heroes - there last night amidst the horror and turmoil. I am proud of the quick and appropriate response of the Salt Lake City Police. I am proud of the off-duty Ogden Police Officer who was having an early Valentine's date with his pregnant wife, who, having assessed the situation, sent her to call 911 and tell others to "lock down" and then engaged and distracted the gunman and doubtless saved many lives. I am proud of store owners and employees who warned people - some risking their own lives in the process - to stay away from the shooter and those who sheltered frightened patrons in their storage rooms, bathrooms and even a freezer. I am proud of the first shooting victim, seriously wounded from being hit multiple times as he was leaving the mall, who ran back TOWARDS the shopping center in order to warn others not to come outside. If I am not mistaken, his selfless actions also prompted the first 911 call. These individuals claim that they did "what anyone else would have done in the same situation." Even if that is the case, they are still heroes.

Now I mourn for "my city" - not for myself, but for this senseless tragedy. I grieve, too, that it is a reality in LIFE that senseless tragedy can happen at any time and any place, bringing out the very worst in humanity but also the very best, as though Janus incarnate.

My thoughts and no doubt the good wishes of people around the World go out the seriously wounded:

Alan "AJ" Walker, who lost his Father
Carolyn Tuft, who lost her Daughter
Stacy Hanson
Shawn Munns, who ran towards danger, not away from it

And in honoured memory of:

Jeffery Walker, Father of sixteen-year-old Alan "AJ" Walker
Kirsten Hinckley, fifteen-year-old Daughter of Carolyn Tuft
Vanessa Quinn
Brad Frantz
Teresa Ellis

I cannot presume to imagine how much they will be missed.

*Read more about the shootings in any major paper. The largest Utah newspapers are The Salt Lake Tribune and the Deseret News.

I hope everyone lived strong on LIVESTRONG Day! I, myself, completed the day by seeing Mission: Impossible III, in which everyone lives VERY strong with weapons or without them, with bombs in their heads or without them, using Easy Cheese to dissolve the side of a van (or not). AND sometimes they even compute the fulcrum. That's why, when I was young, all science seemed interesting to me EXCEPT physics - it was because of the fulcrum. When they gave you the picture with the teeter-totter with the supporting triangle in different places and said, "Where is the fulcrum?" or "What is the right fulcrum if the wee tiny kid and the really LARGE kid want to teeter-totter together?" I was always thinking "WHAT IN THE HELL IS A FULCRUM?"

Where was I? Ah yes, Blog against Cancer. In case you've forgotten (because of the FULCRUM), that's number four on the list of suggestions from the Lance Armstrong Foundation.

I said a lot of what I might say now (had I not written it already) in "I Have Learned What it Means to Wear Yellow." But, as things change for the better and for the worse, I have things to add. So let me talk about why I STILL Wear Yellow and probably always will.

I Wear Yellow in continuing memory of Laurie Walker, Helen Pawlowski, Joan Koralewski, Simon Craig Vodosek, and, yes, Mister Rogers. I Wear Yellow in honour of their families and loved ones who miss them, and to pay homage to their amazing legacies.

I wish you'd met this incredible child, Laurie.
Your daughter is such a beautiful Mother.

I Wear Yellow now, too, in memory of Glen Orrin Richardson and Grettir's Aunt Marge (who by all accounts was the embodiment of "salt of the Earth").

I Wear Yellow in abiding optimism for Dr. Lisa Cannon-Albright. I Wear Yellow because of her personal fight with cancer, and in admiration and respect for the work that she and her colleagues do every day so that perhaps some day the losses and battles caused by cancer will be diminished - vanquished!

I Wear Yellow, too, in support and hope for Glen H., Barbara K., Ann E. and in their ongoing battles with cancer. My thoughts are with you and with your families.

I Wear Yellow in celebration for my beautiful niece, Sarah, who has had a "complete response" to her Hodgkin's Lymphoma treatment.

Prom, April 22, 2006

I Wear Yellow in profound gratitude to Primary Children's Medical Center and all the wonderful doctors there, especially Dr. Zeinab Afify, LDS Hospital and the wonderful Radiology Oncologist whose name escapes me, Cottonwood Hospital, all the home health nurses and workers, and the remarkable physicians at Johns Hopkins who worked so hard to figure out was wrong in the first place.

I Wear Yellow in thankfulness for all the Monkey Cats who provide an INSANE but diverting respite for Sarah from the unending (though natural) concern of her family. You have all been just FANTASTIC (and, as we all know, it takes VERY special people to be Sarah's friends, as she is VERY special). And Rob - what can I say - you really are one in a million. You take such good care of our girl and treat her with respect, tenderness and patience beyond your years. Sarah didn't tell us, but your Mom spilled the beans to MY Mom that you even offered to shave your head in support of our G.I. Jane. And in characteristic Sarah fashion she said, "No, SOMEONE should have hair!" Nevertheless, the mere fact that you offered is a testament to your character. Thank you for helping let Sarah live a full and very teenage life despite her chemo and radiation and whatnot. Thank you for wearing a mask and using anti-bacterial gel when she was immunocompromised (without anyone even having to ask) and for helping remind HER to be careful when it was necessary. Bless you.

I Wear Yellow because Sarah has shown me what an incredible young women she's grown into. She has faced adversity, uncertainty and pain with a truly unique approach. And through it all, she has shown with VERY few exceptions, only patience and optimism. I am so proud of you, Sarah!

I Wear Yellow for Shirleen and for my Mother who take care of everyone else first. They work so hard and take essentially NO credit for all that they do. I am in awe of both of them.

I Wear Yellow to remind myself to have faith that a day will come when "cancer-free" will mean "cancer-free." Glen Richardson and my Father showed me we are not there yet. My heartfelt desire is that Sarah (and everyone who is living or has lived through cancer treatment) will someday know truly what it is to be "cancer free." I Wear Yellow because I believe there are cures for cancer in the future. And if now or in the future a cure is not enough, I Wear Yellow because I trust that some day end-of-life care and palliative care will be what they should be. And I thank, sincerely, The Division of Medical Ethics for the knowledge they gave me about such important issues.

And lastly, or perhaps foremost, I Wear Yellow for my Dad. Please know that despite whatever ridiculously stubborn guff I throw your way, I love you so much! I know you are hurting, and you still work so hard. And yes, I think most of us wish you knew how NOT to work so hard, but I'm still very proud of you.

I think this is what you do the very best. You were born to be "Grandpa."

First, please attend the second annual Simon's Birthday Lemonade Stand. Here's the information, provided by his lovely Mother, Mary:

Classmates, friends and family of Simon Vodosek (who died of cancer in 2004 at the age of 7) will celebrate his life with the second annual Simon's Birthday Lemonade Stand for Pediatric Cancer Research on what would have been Simon's 9th birthday. The lemonade stand was inspired by Alex Scott, another child diagnosed with neuroblastoma, who took matters into her own hands and decided to fight the disease one glass at a time.

10% of all purchases at Liberty Heights Fresh on May 17 go directly to the Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation, along with all proceeds from the freshly squeezed organic lemonade, donated by Liberty Heights Fresh. Store hours are 8:30 am to 8:00 pm.

Simon's favorite clown, Marcus, Funny Man Who Does Tricks, and of course, birthday cake will add to the fun:

4:00 pmâ??Marcus, Funny Man Who Does Tricks

4:30 pmâ??Birthday cake

For further information about Simon Vodosek and the lemonade stand legacy, including photos, flyers, an audio file of Simon's family's radio interview on May 3rd on KCPW, and information on how to donate to Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation online, visit http://www.simonsplace.org. (Miriam was amazing on the radio--take a listen!)

"Even though I'm small for my age, I sure am fun."

Here's the nitty-gritty:

Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Liberty Heights Fresh
1242 S 1100 E
SALT LAKE CITY UT 84105-1813
(801) 467-2434
3:30-6:30 pm

Oh - and Liberty Heights Fresh has, I warrant, the VERY best cheese selection in Salt Lake right now. They ALSO have honeycomb (NOT the cereal) which is very difficult to locate (and if you don't believe me, I can testify to it myself and provide other witnesses). So stock up on "homemade soups, sandwiches, spreads & salsas, locally grown & organic fruits & vegetables, fresh meat, organic dairy, artisan breads, fresh flowers [don't eat these?], farmstead & artisan cheeses, [and] charcuterie" at a ten percent discount. Make sure to eat something on site so that you're REALLY thirsty, and then drink lots of organic lemonade to benefit the Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation.

SECONDLY, Wednesday, May 17 is LIVESTRONG Day! Please read, if you haven't already, Why I Wear Yellow (and the other entries in my "In Memory" and "Blood is Thicker..." categories).

Here are Five suggestions for LIVESTRONG Day from the Lance Armstrong Foundation:

1. Wear yellow and encourage your family, friends, neighbors and colleagues to do the same. Official LIVESTRONG clothing and merchandise may be purchased online in the LIVESTRONG Store.
2. Participate in a LIVESTRONG Day event or activity near you.
3. Send an e-card to your family, friends, neighbors or colleagues and encourage them to join the team in the fight against cancer.
4. Take part in a virtual LIVESTRONG Day activity - Blog Against Cancer.
5. Send a message to your members of Congress and encourage them to make cancer a national priority.

I have mentioned the life and death of Simon Craig Vodosek numerous times on this site (take a look at my In Memory Category). I just received word that Brighton Ski Resort is going to name a ski run, the "easiest," after Simon. Let me quote Simon's Mother, Mary:

We are thrilled about this meaningful tribute to Simon. In 2004, Simon skied on this same hill during his brief one-season career as a skier. The little run, rated "Easiest," will be accessible to all levels of skiers--a fitting tribute to our son, who was six when he first skied and seven when he died of neuroblastoma, an aggressive childhood cancer.

On this Friday, April 14, 2006, Simon's Way will be dedicated at 2:00 p.m. Here's a prototype of the sign:

Please visit Simon's Place to see pictures of Simon sking. More importantly, on this page you can find out how to purchase an all-day pass from Simon's Family that will benefit the Children's Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation.

One last word from Mary:

If you can't join us, please think of us as we make this happy step in our mourning of Simon's death and our celebration his life. For years to come, we will all be able to ski past the sign and know that we are traveling "Simon's Way," remembering a little boy who lived a joyous life.