THE YEAR OF SAYING GOODBYE

“In the end, we all become memories” Heidi Thomas

I’ve had tragedies, heartbreak, severe depressions, and have been through more than I’ve told most people. But this year, the losses seemed to come, one after another. I’ve included four, but there were other long time friends who passed.  It’s just these four hit me the hardest.  I’m a writer, but the quotes I’m leaving here about each person who left my life say it better than I could. I did add a few of my own.  There aren’t enough words to say how much I miss them and how their memories will stay with me the rest of my life. May they all rest in eternal peace, but also fly free, be healthy, feel young, and experience the highest form of happiness…which is love.

Uncle Cliff Gaston

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863

Cliff was my half uncle on my mother’s side. My memories of him are fun, he came to stay with us when I was a child, and remember his sense of humor. He and Mom had the same strong personalities, which was a bit dodgy at times. I assume they both got this from their mutual father, William Gaston. Both loved a party. 

I think if you asked who he was, he would say, first and foremost, “soldier”. I chose Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address as it mentions ” the last full measure of devotion”. All of our brothers and sisters know that they could lose their lives, and yet served their country. He attended Valley Forge Military Academy, and seemed destined to become a member of the elite group of soldiers.  He was an experienced pilot and a salesman, but later in life, he found great happiness with his wife, and as a devoted advocate of returning veterans with the Wyakin Foundation. He is buried in Arlington Cemetary.  Rest in peace, soldier and thank you for your service.

Johnnie Bolin 

August 17, 1954 — September 5, 2024

Johnnie was irreplaceable. I think he was one of those old souls that had a light within him. He struggled with his own demons, while showing the world his lighter side, his kindness, his curiosity, his wealth of knowledge about music, and his ability to see what was good in you. He was closest to my brother Norm, friends for over 50 years, and became friends with my husband Eric, who I decided would make the perfect rock and roll radio talk show hosts. And they were. His family died long before he did, so he became part of the Waitt clan. He teased and flirted with mom, who adored him, he was very close to Norm since high school, he was an “honorary brother to Eric”, and to me, he was part of my story for many years. Each holiday, particularly Mother’s Day, I would get a text and ending it with “Love yous guys”. That is not a typo. That was Johnnie.  So, I’m sending this to him as the holidays approach, “Say hello to the angels Johnnie, Happy Holidays, Love yous guys”.

“Some people arrive in your life and made such an impression, you can’t remember when you didn’t know them”

“The real secret to charisma is making each person you meet feel that they have your complete attention when they speak to you.” Nick Vujicic

‘ When I first met Johnnie in 1971, he was unquestionably rock star gorgeous. I think he knew that beauty was a gift given at birth, if he even thought of himself that way. As he grew older, his beauty remained, but it came from his friendliness, his kindness, and his ability to light up a room just by walking into it.

“Johnnie Bolin made Sioux City a little cooler” Reverend Jay Denne.

My mother Joan Louise Gaston Waitt

May 3, 1931 to October 18, 2024

I’ve chosen Byron, her favorite. It not only describes her physical beauty, grace, and intelligence, but her elegance and her almost childlike ability to love.

She Walks in Beauty

January 20, 1943  to May 24, 2025

“Kindness is like snow. It beautifies everything it covers.” – Kahlil Gibran

My aunt Nancy was a saint. I don’t say this lightly. She was. Our family says that about her. She could take the toughest times and challenging people and somehow remain firm, calm and she’d carry on.  I thought of her as a woman who probably didn’t think about how beautiful she was, but thought about inner beauty. She had that, always. She was a loving wife, mother, decorator, community volunteer and a woman who seemed to create beauty wherever she was. She had a great laugh, and I heard it often. My Uncle David is one of the funniest men I know, and though he wouldn’t be the easiest to live with at times, I think his big brain and his humor worked for her.  She was also wise. She could take challenging  times from her own life, and use those to give me advice, when I’d ask for it. Her dementia diagnoses came early, and lasted many years.  I always felt at peace in her presence, and glad she has now reached that peace.’

 

Gary Lipshutz  January 20, 1943- May 24, 2025

“Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination” – Immanuel Kant

I first met Gary in 1978, through a mutual friend. I was newly married, with an English degree, but not a clear direction. I met Gary, the owner of the Sioux City Musketeers, who hired me to do press releases, and coordinate his schedule and his considerable amount of mail. He called it “Let’s play clean the desk”.  I had an absolute blast working for him.Gary was so many things, an entrepreneur, a community activist,  political being, a creator of fun and interesting things, and in my opinion, at heart, a philosopher.  We remained friends over the years. I could always count on Gary’s invaluable advice and his many bon mots. I never failed to laugh hysterically at his remarks.  Two of his best were, when commenting on my new husband Steve, “He’s a good looking guy, but he’s probably not going to host the tonight show”.  When I was feeling very unlovely, “Well you’re no Elizabeth Taylor, but you’re awfully pretty and usually damned cute.” He called us Harry and Sally, he the cynical but funny Jewish guy to my highly neurotic waspy girl. It was never romantic, just friends, an older brother figure in my life. He would end all our phone calls, with “Remember, your adored”. And Gary, to me, despite our difficult moments, you were always adored.

 

Jeremy Pigg September 4th, 1976 to June 1, 2025

 

 

He must have been about 21 when he wandered into my store, “Bell, Book and Candle” and became part of the family soon after. How could he not? He was one of the funniest people I’ve ever known, with a wit, and a bunch of knowledge far beyond his years. He was a great writer, and eventually became editor of our monthly “Fourth St. Revue”. He loved the legendary Algonquin Round Table and loved Dorothy Parker’s famous quote, “What fresh hell is this.?

He used to muse that he wanted to be one of those old men, sitting on a chair on the front porch, saying “Where are my pants?”. That was not to be. What is strange is that even before he became ill, I never saw him as an old man. He had his troubles, and plenty of gifts to make you look past those darker places.  I became Wendy to his Peter Pan, the Prince of all the Lost Boys”. J.M. Barrie might have been writing about Jeremy, the quintessential Peter Pan.  That’s how I’ll always remember him. So, when I go, I hope I hear, “There it is, Wendy. Second star to the right and straight on until morning”.

Reba Gail Kevern May 20, 1952 to November 25, 2025