By Bob Spiwak
The new year is just about here. We spent Sunday morning as usual watching “Sunday Morning” on CBS. Yearly, host Charles Osgood has a section for the final show of the year titled “Hail and Farewell,” commentary about famous people who died during the past year. Some were familiar to Ms. Gloria and me, others not.
Periodically as we watched, the nature of the program would bring to mind somebody here in the Mazama environs we knew who had gone over in the year past, and Gloria suggested I do a similar feature for this column.
The people who have passed include those we knew pretty well to intimately, and others unmentioned here with whom we were unfamiliar other than by name.
Martha Cram was one of our closest friends and we knew her and husband, Bob, and their children for decades. They lived in Seattle and had a second home a couple of miles from the Mazama Store. We had dinners together, golfed together and did other mutually enjoyable pursuits.
Probably the most fun — and an example of Martha’s generosity — was her arriving early when we had our golf tournaments at our pitch-and-putt nine-hole course here. She would grab a rake, or shovel — any tool to make things just a little nicer. Off the course, her willingness to help in any situation was no different.
Dick Brown was one of my golf buddies. He was the father of Jeff, of Brown’s Farm. Dick had poor eyesight and it was a constant source of humor and snide remarks when he would ask his companions to watch where his ball went. (Now I am in exactly the same situation.) Dick was always fun to be around.
Toni White was a long-time, maybe lifetime, valley resident who was fun in any situation. I first met her when I was hired to work at the now old-old-old-old-old (based on owners) old Mazama Store. This was in the 1970s. Few who are around now may have experienced the dark, dingy, squeaky-floored building that housed the store. The Mazama post office was there and we would at times have fun reading post cards. We did not take our tasks too seriously.
Joan Lasse was known for her wide-ranging abilities as an artist. Whether it was walking sticks to paintings, she always produced something of value. I did the snowplowing at her place and there was always hot coffee and goodies waiting when I finished.
Bob Sitts. What a guy. Enamored of mules, he kept a small string of them at his place near Lost River. He and Mary Ann came to the Methow about the same time as we did, and we got to know him pretty well. He was a spellbinding storyteller. What I remember most are his tales of the sea and his youth. He was ahead of his time when he tackled a creek across from his home and converted it into electric power.
Gerry Sparling, doctor, philosopher and gardener. He built a solar greenhouse at his home on Wolf Creek Road and experimented with different flowers and vegetables, trying to create new varieties and “just to see what happens,” he said. He was a leader of the local Unitarian Fellowship.
Matt Jones was another occasional golf partner. He created Java Man Espresso on the main corner of Winthrop, and augmented this with fresh-made burritos and other breakfast stuff. I think he had the first espresso machine in Winthrop. He was also a magician, and from time to time would put on shows at Sun Mountain.
There are others who have died over the year past, and I suppose this group has a special place in my psyche because they and I are of the same generation, what was known for a time as “the Depression brats.”
I tip my cup to you all with a few drams of bootleg Scotch.
