April 26, 2020
When next you see a rose, think of Lynn.
Lynn passed away at home as her roses awakened outside. Her long winter ends, melting to an eternal spring. If you knew Lynn, you know that like her roses, she gave more, so much more, than she ever asked for herself in return. Roses are tenacious: they struggle through the hardest winters, they survive ravaging storms, they ask for so little to live, even when they’re sick. Yet through it all they blossom and hint at the possibility of perfection. And if you knew Lynn, you also know about thorns. Humorous and sarcastic barbs were there, but these were gentle pricks to remind us of what’s real. The thorns are there to warn us, to guide us, to require us to be gentle and respectful when reaching for perfection.
Lynn loved her little city of Wilmington where she was born in 1955: a proud Delaware native! She was the only Methodist in the Ursuline class of 1973. Maybe the fact that she needed books as much as food allowed her to score a perfect 800 on her verbal SAT, something that always impressed me, whereas she just shrugged. She was married in November, 1976, at Kemble Memorial United Methodist Church in Woodbury, New Jersey. She graduated from the University of Delaware with a degree in political science, and went on with graduate studies in Scandinavian history, specifically Vikings, who she called the world’s greatest salesmen. Old High Norse and life’s realities got in the way though. She stayed at the University of Delaware for 19 years, working in admissions as a transfer credit evaluator until forced to retire due to a health problem. But roses are tough! She recovered, and worked for AACRAO- the American Association of Collegiate Registrars and Admissions Officers- as a senior foreign educational credentials analyst. She felt blessed to be able to help foreign students, some in desperate situations in their own country, navigate the complicated waters of disparate educational systems to reach for their American dream.
She leaves behind her loving husband Tom, her cousin Michelle, her dear Aunt Judy, and uncle Mitch, and goes to be with her mother Barbara, uncle Tommy, Cousin Trish, and cousin Kevin. She couldn’t wait to pet her dog Charlie again!
A loyal Democrat, she traveled with her grandmother to the Democratic National Conventions in 1964 and 1968. Yes- 1968, in Chicago, at the Conrad Hilton, where she and her gray-haired grandmother were clubbed by police. They were simply coming back to the hotel from the Amphitheatre. For Lynn, politics was visceral. She proposed to Joe Biden, the speaker at her high school graduation, who signed her yearbook with “Thanks for asking!”
In 1992, she tried out for Jeopardy! at Resorts International Casino in Atlantic City. She just wanted to see if she could pass the qualifying tests. At work, two weeks later, she got a call from California to come play. She was on Jeopardy! three times, winning two games and a trip to Montreal. (“Of course, you’ll want to go in June,” said the coordinator. “Oh no!” said Lynn. “January, to see the Flyers at the Forum!” When we arrived, it was 15 below!) I think Alex Trebek really liked her because she showed she loved the game, was obviously having fun, and never gave up, coming from behind to win both games.
She loved the beach, the ocean, the sea gulls flying stitching sky to waves. “Down the shore” was a refuge, an escape (her on-line friends understand!) from her stormy past. Her garden was a joy, Christmas, her needlepoint, her books, her Broad Street Bullies. She cherished her brief time as a volunteer with Literacy Delaware. She donated to many charities, even when we didn’t really have the money: Heifer International, Médecins Sans Frontières, Kiva, Southern Poverty Law Center, Fistula Foundation, ANY community drive-by fund raiser, or friends who just needed a little help.
She always cared more for others than herself. He career was spent helping others. She’s helping others right now, even in death, as a body donor with the Humanity Gifts Registry in Philadelphia.
When next you see a rose, think of Lynn.
The only thing she wanted in remembrance of her is that you give a little something to a charity of your choice, a little something to help someone else.
Somewhere between head and heart and need,
The place emotions stir to life, at rest
In bone and flesh, that fertile, awful seed
That pulls clenched fists to helpless chests
And brings such useless rain to barren ground,
Unwanted yet it grows. It chokes out all
That is to come, all that would be found,
And leaves within this tangled life a pall.
But now a time to rest, a time to weave
These woven lines of rhyme, to simply wait
Among the weeds, unable to believe
The forces willed to bring us to this gate.
Her garden waits, her sleeping roses stir
And call her through this haze, this brutal blur.
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