Sally was also the first person I met with an overnight CPAP machine and we had to sprint across the airports carrying this machine, all the while waiting for her cigarette breaks, before we finally made it to out destination, and when she slept in too late one morning, Lars made me go upstairs to check on her. The machine sounded like Darth Vader's heavy breathing - I was so relieved to find her sound asleep and enjoying her Danish rest. I came back downstairs and said, "She's good, Lars. She's just resting."
What I loved about Sally the most, however, is her genuine care and interest in each and every kid we taught. She took all of them under her wing and brought forward a grandmotherly love in which she would use to fight anyone who messed with any of our student's joy. That's what she was all about. She and her husband often had me over for lunch and long conversations about the meaning of life, the reasons we're here, teaching, and parenting (as they raised several sons themselves).
No one ever knew what Sally would say, and I suppose for those reasons many turned a cold shoulder on her, but I experienced the immensity of passion for working with kids. She always had a joke for them and candy. She was always willing to share her hardships, her lifelong journey, and her happiness of living life to its fullest.
News of her passing came while I was in CNY celebrating the life of Peter Caroli. Tiana French sent me this photo, because by this time in my history, I stopped taking pictures and was documenting everything with a video camera. Somewhere in my possession is the video of going to Denmark with her and all the laughter we shared. I remember, too, when going to the Louisiana Art Museum, we sat on a train when the door of the bathroom flew open and a man taking a pee came flying out with his "device" in his hand. He fell near Sally - I think on her lap - and she asked, "Sir, do you need help with that," which horrified him, he returned to the bathroom, and it launched a series of stories of equally embarrassing stories, including those told by Jack Cox (no pun intended) and Mathew Fowler's mom, a dentist in University of Louisville's dental school. I'm not sure if any of us ever laughed that hard.
And that poor guy came out of the bathroom looking around, I suppose wondering if any of us would remember what just happened. Somewhere in Denmark, that man either shares that story or keeps it 100% to himself. For me, though, I thought, "That would only happen because Sally was with us." We all loved her - big personality and all.
Sending more prayers to the Great Whatever hoping her wings (she always was an angel for our kids) will continue to look upon all of us below. Rest in peace, Dear Friend.
