I remember meeting Linda Rowley the summer of 1961—the year I entered Lynnwood Junior High as a 7th grader. I was standing in my horse pasture holding the reins of my horse in one hand and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the other. She laughed when she saw me, and would forever tease me about my love of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I’m not sure if she laughed because I was eating the sandwich while holding my horse, or because I was holding my horse while eating my sandwich. Regardless, it was Linda’s laughter that sparked the close friendship we had for so many years. And it began that summer. Linda and her parents, their dog Rex, two ponies, and a very mean and menacing gander moved in just a few houses north of mine in Alderwood Manor. We had that summer of ’61 to get to know each other, and the two of us could often be spotted riding the trails of nearby Bradner Park or the Interurban (trail) with our dogs Rex and Feller trotting along with us.
It was Linda’s stopping by on the school mornings and telling me to hurry so we wouldn’t miss the bus that eliminated any long walks to Lynnwood Junior High my 7th and 8th grade years. But then it was my 9th grade year and Linda rode an earlier bus to Meadowdale High School. No more “hurry ups” to keep me on track, so it was those footsteps I trudged alone all the way to the junior high—carrying my books (this was pre-backpack days) and French Horn—that I really learned to appreciate Linda and to realize what a good friend she truly was.
Our friendship continued, even into our twenties and thirties, but as the years progressed into our forties, fifties, and early sixties, our visits were by telephone only. Any attempts for my visiting Linda were rejected, though we did a lot of reminiscing and laughing on those phone conversations. It was no surprise that at some point in those conversations that she would slyly ask if I was still eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! In fact, I believe it was our last face-to-face visit that she presented me with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a baggie. That was Linda!
At some point many years ago, Linda called letting me know that she had fallen from a step ladder while trying to wash the roof of her van, and had suffered a serious ankle break which landed her in a rehabilitation center/nursing home. Even after the nasty break healed, walking was difficult and extremely painful for Linda, which resulted in limited walking and little exercise. She stayed mobile for some time and was able to still get around in her beloved van, but she shared with me that she was too heavy. I’ve always wondered if her weight gain was her reason for rejecting any visits from me. Breaking her ankle, in my opinion, was the catalyst for the downward spiraling of her health. She would call me from hospital rooms in Seattle, Edmonds, and Everett reporting that she had the pneumonia bug again. Even then, she would not allow me to visit, so we did our visiting over the phone, as we had done for years.
The last call I received from Linda was when she was in a nursing home in Stanwood. She was pretty much wheelchair bound by then, but she had decided to take a short jaunt to a nearby store and tragically toppled the wheelchair, dumping her out. I told her I’d be there in an hour, but she adamantly told me, “No!” Upset at her rejection, I called the facility and talked with a nurse who worked closely with Linda. She told me that I needed to respect Linda’s wishes. And I did.
To this day I ask myself if I should have just gone to that nursing facility in Stanwood, regardless of Linda’s wishes. I don’t know the answer to that. What I know is that after trying her cell phone again and again and not reaching her, I figured that she would call me when she was ready. Linda did not call. It was just today, July 22, 2016, that I had the courage to finally call the nursing home to ask if Linda had died. Because of HIPPA rules, the only information that I learned was that Linda had been discharged in October of 2012. With that limited information, I searched for her name in the Washington State Death Records and found her. Linda L. Rowley, 65, had died at age 65 in Snohomish County, Washington on October 27, 2012.
Linda’s and my friendship was a unique and long-lasting one. She was quite close to my mother and even called and referred to her as “Mom” after she’d lost both of her parents to cancer. When she found out that Mother had died, a beautiful bouquet of flowers was on the steps of the altar where the funeral mass was held, addressed to my family in remembrance of “Mom, her second mother.”
Oh, how I especially miss those first 15 years of our friendship when we were so close. But I have her voice on three different messages on my home answering machine, all starting out with, “Well hello, Julianne, it’s Linda.” Listening to her messages brings a smile to my face but also tears to my eyes, and yes, memories of her teasing me about those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
I didn't know Linda..but your tribute touched my heart. When going to Maple Park I had a dear friend like that too..Janice Goetz. I lost track of her..found her and lost track of her again. You are both so lucky to have continued your friendship through the years...and for you to respect her wishes even though it was so hard for you...you were truly there for her..bless your heart.
Your story about Linda is so touching and I truely can understand your frustration about wanting to visit her even though she requested you not to. My grandpa's sister was my best friend when I needed a friend so desperately living back east. At the time we (now ex and my 2 kids) moved to Illinois so that he could go to college. Our marriage was really bad and my kids and I would spend every Saturday at her house visiting while he was gone. ( I worked all weekdays.) We would simply enjoy our time there. My kids would play with her youngest and my aunt and I would make homemade noodles or bake something. I didn't discuss the problems with her, just enjoyed her company and talk about news about relatives back home and what was going on.. After moving back to Washington, after her kids left home, they moved to Texas. We would meet up at grandma and grandpa's house over the years and twice they came out here. We had the best of times reconnecting. Then I got the call that auntie had a brain tumor and was in the hospital. After making my plane reservations ( by this time I had divored and remarried) I called my aunt and told her I was coming down to see her. She started crying pretty hard and begged me not to come, which really thru me because we had maintained commumications after my divorce either thru letters or by phone. That made me cry because she didn't want me to come and she begged me "if you love me, please don't come". So I promised and didn't go. A couple years ago while visiting at another aunt that was terminal my cousins (daughters of my great aunt) came there also. I hadn'e seen them for forty years!! We had a chance to talk about her mom and I asked why she didn't want to see me. Her daugther said "oh, mom really wanted to see you but the tumor had changed her appearance so drasictly and she had only wisps of hair. She wanted me to remember her when she was healthy and "normal". I said that I would not have cared about her appearance but she said her mom was super sensitive about it and she really wanted to have me remember her as she was. So I really understand how hard it was for you not to visit. Just remember that someday we both will get ours wishes when we meet our loved ones again in heaven.
Geraldine, it's June 13, 2017 and I just now read your response to what I had written about my dear friend Linda Rowley. You understand my frustration and hurt at my friend’s request. And you, like I, wouldn’t have cared what our friends looked like. But we both honored our friends’ wishes and did not visit. By honoring those requests, we were giving them a gift--and that gift was our love. Your words brought tears to my eyes as I read your story. You said to me to just remember that some day we both will get our wishes when we meet our loved ones again in heaven. Then I wiped away my tears and smiled. Thank you, Geraldine.
Julianne Denby (Anderson (MHS '67))
I remember meeting Linda Rowley the summer of 1961—the year I entered Lynnwood Junior High as a 7th grader. I was standing in my horse pasture holding the reins of my horse in one hand and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the other. She laughed when she saw me, and would forever tease me about my love of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I’m not sure if she laughed because I was eating the sandwich while holding my horse, or because I was holding my horse while eating my sandwich. Regardless, it was Linda’s laughter that sparked the close friendship we had for so many years. And it began that summer. Linda and her parents, their dog Rex, two ponies, and a very mean and menacing gander moved in just a few houses north of mine in Alderwood Manor. We had that summer of ’61 to get to know each other, and the two of us could often be spotted riding the trails of nearby Bradner Park or the Interurban (trail) with our dogs Rex and Feller trotting along with us.
It was Linda’s stopping by on the school mornings and telling me to hurry so we wouldn’t miss the bus that eliminated any long walks to Lynnwood Junior High my 7th and 8th grade years. But then it was my 9th grade year and Linda rode an earlier bus to Meadowdale High School. No more “hurry ups” to keep me on track, so it was those footsteps I trudged alone all the way to the junior high—carrying my books (this was pre-backpack days) and French Horn—that I really learned to appreciate Linda and to realize what a good friend she truly was.
Our friendship continued, even into our twenties and thirties, but as the years progressed into our forties, fifties, and early sixties, our visits were by telephone only. Any attempts for my visiting Linda were rejected, though we did a lot of reminiscing and laughing on those phone conversations. It was no surprise that at some point in those conversations that she would slyly ask if I was still eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! In fact, I believe it was our last face-to-face visit that she presented me with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a baggie. That was Linda!
At some point many years ago, Linda called letting me know that she had fallen from a step ladder while trying to wash the roof of her van, and had suffered a serious ankle break which landed her in a rehabilitation center/nursing home. Even after the nasty break healed, walking was difficult and extremely painful for Linda, which resulted in limited walking and little exercise. She stayed mobile for some time and was able to still get around in her beloved van, but she shared with me that she was too heavy. I’ve always wondered if her weight gain was her reason for rejecting any visits from me. Breaking her ankle, in my opinion, was the catalyst for the downward spiraling of her health. She would call me from hospital rooms in Seattle, Edmonds, and Everett reporting that she had the pneumonia bug again. Even then, she would not allow me to visit, so we did our visiting over the phone, as we had done for years.
The last call I received from Linda was when she was in a nursing home in Stanwood. She was pretty much wheelchair bound by then, but she had decided to take a short jaunt to a nearby store and tragically toppled the wheelchair, dumping her out. I told her I’d be there in an hour, but she adamantly told me, “No!” Upset at her rejection, I called the facility and talked with a nurse who worked closely with Linda. She told me that I needed to respect Linda’s wishes. And I did.
To this day I ask myself if I should have just gone to that nursing facility in Stanwood, regardless of Linda’s wishes. I don’t know the answer to that. What I know is that after trying her cell phone again and again and not reaching her, I figured that she would call me when she was ready. Linda did not call. It was just today, July 22, 2016, that I had the courage to finally call the nursing home to ask if Linda had died. Because of HIPPA rules, the only information that I learned was that Linda had been discharged in October of 2012. With that limited information, I searched for her name in the Washington State Death Records and found her. Linda L. Rowley, 65, had died at age 65 in Snohomish County, Washington on October 27, 2012.
Linda’s and my friendship was a unique and long-lasting one. She was quite close to my mother and even called and referred to her as “Mom” after she’d lost both of her parents to cancer. When she found out that Mother had died, a beautiful bouquet of flowers was on the steps of the altar where the funeral mass was held, addressed to my family in remembrance of “Mom, her second mother.”
Oh, how I especially miss those first 15 years of our friendship when we were so close. But I have her voice on three different messages on my home answering machine, all starting out with, “Well hello, Julianne, it’s Linda.” Listening to her messages brings a smile to my face but also tears to my eyes, and yes, memories of her teasing me about those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Linda Wheeler (Taylor)
That was a beautiful tribute to your friend.
Linda Burfitt (Crisp (LSHS '66))
I didn't know Linda..but your tribute touched my heart. When going to Maple Park I had a dear friend like that too..Janice Goetz. I lost track of her..found her and lost track of her again. You are both so lucky to have continued your friendship through the years...and for you to respect her wishes even though it was so hard for you...you were truly there for her..bless your heart.
Geraldine Ritchey (Reed)
Your story about Linda is so touching and I truely can understand your frustration about wanting to visit her even though she requested you not to. My grandpa's sister was my best friend when I needed a friend so desperately living back east. At the time we (now ex and my 2 kids) moved to Illinois so that he could go to college. Our marriage was really bad and my kids and I would spend every Saturday at her house visiting while he was gone. ( I worked all weekdays.) We would simply enjoy our time there. My kids would play with her youngest and my aunt and I would make homemade noodles or bake something. I didn't discuss the problems with her, just enjoyed her company and talk about news about relatives back home and what was going on.. After moving back to Washington, after her kids left home, they moved to Texas. We would meet up at grandma and grandpa's house over the years and twice they came out here. We had the best of times reconnecting. Then I got the call that auntie had a brain tumor and was in the hospital. After making my plane reservations ( by this time I had divored and remarried) I called my aunt and told her I was coming down to see her. She started crying pretty hard and begged me not to come, which really thru me because we had maintained commumications after my divorce either thru letters or by phone. That made me cry because she didn't want me to come and she begged me "if you love me, please don't come". So I promised and didn't go. A couple years ago while visiting at another aunt that was terminal my cousins (daughters of my great aunt) came there also. I hadn'e seen them for forty years!! We had a chance to talk about her mom and I asked why she didn't want to see me. Her daugther said "oh, mom really wanted to see you but the tumor had changed her appearance so drasictly and she had only wisps of hair. She wanted me to remember her when she was healthy and "normal". I said that I would not have cared about her appearance but she said her mom was super sensitive about it and she really wanted to have me remember her as she was. So I really understand how hard it was for you not to visit. Just remember that someday we both will get ours wishes when we meet our loved ones again in heaven.
Julianne Denby (Anderson (MHS '67))
Geraldine, it's June 13, 2017 and I just now read your response to what I had written about my dear friend Linda Rowley. You understand my frustration and hurt at my friend’s request. And you, like I, wouldn’t have cared what our friends looked like. But we both honored our friends’ wishes and did not visit. By honoring those requests, we were giving them a gift--and that gift was our love. Your words brought tears to my eyes as I read your story. You said to me to just remember that some day we both will get our wishes when we meet our loved ones again in heaven. Then I wiped away my tears and smiled. Thank you, Geraldine.