Linda Othote Tribute

It was very important to Bon that this occasion truly be one of joy and celebration—it was a thought she repeated consistently and often as we talked about what her wishes were for this day.

And it is true that Bon and I have been friends for many years—but how do you do justice to that? I do not know the answer, but I will try by sharing some of my memories about times spent with Bonnie. And hopefully while we will laugh (and I absolutely guarantee that you will laugh---) smile and cry –let’s remember her joyfully for who she was – someone neither I, nor any of us could ever attempt to sum up in just a few words--- though Gerald came very close Thursday afternoon as we chatted over sandwiches with Michelle, Greg, Laurel and Gale at the condo—when he said, “This woman has powers!”

First, I’d like to give just a little historical context to the evolution of our friendship.
The first time I met Bonnie was at the Girl’s Camp run by our church, in the summer of 1974.I had just moved to New England from Utah. I was there as a camp counselor—in fact, coincidentally, Michelle was one of my young charges.

I had a free hour when the little darlings were occupied elsewhere and I was temporarily “off-duty”, so put on my bathing suit and went down to the dock on the lake to catch a little sun. When I arrived, I found that I was not going to have the place to myself like I had hoped. Sitting on the end of the dock were two of the Girl’s Camp cooks—I knew them by sight, but not yet by name--one of them was Bonnie, the other was Greta Peterson.

We introduced ourselves, started talking and the rest is history. It was a most inauspicious beginning to a friendship that would last 35 years—one that has run so rich and so deep—one that I would not have missed for anything-- one that took us to places and through challenges that neither of us could have imagined in our wildest dreams.

A common interest was our involvement in Exponent II-- a newspaper for Mormon women. While Bonnie was one of the original “founding mothers”, I joined the group a year or so after I had met her at camp. It was during those Exponent years that our friendship also deepened in other ways as well-- as we worked together late into the night on the layout of the paper, discussed issues at our monthly board meetings or spent time together at our annual Board retreats.

Somehow Bonnie and I always ended up doing the food. We went along with this for a few years, and then finally one day, we looked at each other and said, “What is wrong with us? We don’t want to do this ANYMORE! And that was the end of our Exponent II catering career!

Interestingly enough, I was thinking back and realized that the beach has always been a great part of my friendship with Bonnie—we both loved peace and tranquility of being there-- and for many years that is where we spent many of our happiest hours—life didn’t get much better than that. We spent time at a lot of different beaches—in RI, on the Cape near a house she and Gerald rented one summer, the North Shore --and often on those spectacular Indian summer days of autumn-- on the beaches of the Vineyard or Nantucket.

These were long, lazy contented times—times when we spent hours laying or walking in the sun, drinking Diet Coke and talking about whatever was on our minds that day.— our lives, our families, our work, our spiritual beliefs, and-- given the time—we often centered on women’s issues and how they affected our lives as Mormon women. It was after all, the 70’s.

It was through these talks and time spent together—whether we were peeling carrots for the evening meal at a retreat, proofing the paper, picking up produce at Russo’s or lying at the beach-- that I came to know Bonnie better and better. Though there were and are still parts of her that are extremely very private, there were others where she was incredibly open-- she was a great conversationalist, an excellent listener and she always had great insight about people and situations and yet at the same time she had that wonderful ability to not judge, plus she had a great sense of humor! We never ever ran out of things to talk about!

I also came to understand and appreciate her solid spiritual foundation—something which would serve her well during her decade-long battle with a list of medical challenges so intimidating that most people would simply fold up their tents and go home.

Not Bonnie. She was and is a warrior and a fighter in the truest sense of the word. Occasionally, she was even a little bit too much of a fighter. Just a week ago last Friday night, Gerald and I spent 20 minutes being “cross-examined” by her in detail regarding the sheets we were in the process of putting on their bed. Had they been washed? Are you sure? Did they match? Where is the pillow with the “mark” on it? “Gerald”, she would say, “I am being very serious.”

Neither of us had any clue what mark she was talking about (and Gerald has slept in the same bed with her for nearly fifty years) but we looked where she directed us to --and sure enough we found it—her little indelible ink mark on the back of the sham right where she said it was! Here was a woman who was in incredible pain and starting to fade in and out of lucidity -- yet she “snapped to” long enough to make sure we were not messing up the bed. Classic Bonnie.

Bonnie loved the scriptures and found great personal solace in them. During this past decade, I know it has given her more peace to read and ponder them. They were a beacon for her-- a lighthouse of sorts-- and along with Gerald as her anchor-- she fought her way through this difficult and foreign territory.

Often, during a long day at the hospital getting treatment or a blood transfusion, I would sort out her bag and re-organize the copious piles of papers. I would always find the same small tattered and torn book—a book that she carried everywhere with her which contained short scriptural thoughts for the day. As I would be cleaning and sorting, she would always ask me if that little book was in the bag. I could always say “yes”. Sometimes I would read to her from it or we would pick a passage or verse and talk about it.

As I sat by her bedside at home over the past two weeks, I noticed another set of scriptures on the nightstand and still others tucked in different spots around the room. And while her spiritual philosophies changed and evolved some along the way, she was always clear that there is a God and we have a Savior, Jesus Christ.

In last week of her life, during the moments when she was feeling less pain and could think a little clearer --we had some wonderful snippets of conversation that I will always treasure. One afternoon we were talking about how we thought this would unfold. I asked her who she thought would greet her first when she crossed the bar. She didn’t hesitate for a moment, she said, “I am going to see God and Jesus Christ.”

I have fought a good fight. I have finished my course. I have kept the faith.
2 Timothy 4:7

It was actually on a beach in RI that we decided to take that amazing trip to Eastern Europe in the summer of 1997. What spawned the whole idea was one of our many “beach” conversations—it was my birthday and we were celebrating with an overnight at our house in RI. Judy was telling us about her plans for a sabbatical the following year and an opportunity she had to teach at the University of Timosoara in Romania-- that she and Jim were very seriously considering the idea.

Bonnie immediately brought up the fact that her father came from Romanian stock, and then we got off on the tangent about the monasteries of Bucovina which is way up in the northern most part of Romania—near the border of the Ukraine. And almost in unison, Bonnie and I said, “Hey, We’ll meet you in Romania when you finish teaching and we’ll all go to Bucovina together!” That was that, the idea was hatched and we were off and running.

While Bonnie was a seasoned world traveler, I was not, and for me, this was the trip of a lifetime. I had never ever been to Europe, though it has long been on my list-- so I was excited beyond belief and thrilled with the prospect of seeing Eastern Europe first. We planned it carefully and methodically—relishing each detail along the way. The countdown was on!

Bonnie and I both felt that we would travel well together—(and we all know that if one is really honest, you can’t travel with just anyone) we both love to explore and wander, we are very curious and quite clear that we had no interest in being part of a group that was marching around behind some guy holding up an umbrella like a banner-- but we also knew that we were both comfortable enough in our relationship to say, “You know what, I want to sleep in today and just chill out. You go ahead.”

Bonnie is a great travel companion because she is so fun and is interested in EVERYTHING, but also because she is a voracious reader of travel books and loves learning what there is to see in every single city—the museums, the ballet, the bakeries, the places off the beaten path that no one else would know existed, let alone bother to find. It was just magical! We walked a lot, we mastered public transportation in each new country and loved traveling by train and seeing the countryside as we moved from Prague, to Vienna, to Budapest and then onto Romania—where we had organized what we realized in retrospect was a completely ridiculous and naïve plan to meet Jim, Jude and Eliza at a train station in Cluj. But that’s a story for another time…

We flew to Copenhagen, then to Prague, then began our travels by train to Vienna where we ate the best chocolate cake (which was served with peach herbal tea) I have EVER had in my entire life. It is one of my favorite photos from our trip and Bonnie & Gerald brought another copy to me for my birthday last year. To this day, I still hope that some day I will wander into an antique store and find one of that Tiffany-style silver sugar pourers exactly like they had in that little shop in Vienna. That would pretty much make my life complete…

Throughout Eastern Europe, I loved the churches and we went in every single church we passed. I was awed by their beauty and their age—I marveled at how someone could have constructed something like that a thousand years ago—I began to recognize the architectural roots of much that I love about New England. I was constantly humbled by the faces of the beautiful elderly women on their knees praying-- women who you knew most likely had lived through the unspeakable horrors of the Second World War and the Holocaust.

I fell in love with Budapest! While in Prague and Vienna, we had stayed in small, charming hotels or little B & B-like places off the beaten path— in Budapest we opted for a large, newer contemporary hotel right on the Danube River. It was a spectacular location and we knew by that time in our trip we would need to be in a place where we had “technology” to confirm final arrangements for the next leg of our journey to Romania and attempt to get in touch with Jude and Jim.

(I use the term technology loosely as even finding a phone that worked was still pretty much a challenge in most places at that time. The next challenge was hoping and praying a person who would actually answer the phone and the third challenge was to not get cut off in mid-conversation--which then required starting the whole process all over again.)

There is an amazing river walk that runs the length of the Danube. Every night, we would dress for dinner and then stroll the river afterwards. And that’s what the people do there—they don’t walk purposefully—they stroll. The lights on the bridges, the beautiful women, and the earthy grittiness of that spectacular city made it absolutely shimmer at night. There were fountains, little shops, and charming castles. It was a breaktakingly beautiful place with energy that you could palpably feel the second you get off the train, but can’t really describe in words that adequately capture what this place is about.

One of the things Bonnie said we must do while in Budapest was to go to the Gellert Baths. (Actually, in retrospect I think Deborah told us about the baths--as she had been there before we were--) and this is my all-time favorite Bonnie story. And by the way, I have her permission to tell it!

Budapest is famous for its beautiful public baths, so we put it on our list. After we spent close to half an hour trying to converse with a young woman attendant (who spoke about six words of English) about whether or not we could wear our bathing suits, she finally shook her head and said very emphatically, “No, nudie,” and then handed us each a thin white towel about the size of a facecloth. (Bonnie had insisted that we bring our suits with us .)

With some hesitation, we stripped and then tried to surreptitiously make our way the 20 feet or so from the dressing room into the baths. Bonnie was hunched over trying to cover up all her vital parts with this 12 x12 inch of fabric. We already stuck out like sore thumbs--- the only two blondes in a sea of dark-skinned, dark-haired robust women. I was laughing so hard, I could hardly breathe--- finally I said, “Bonnie, we are going to do this, just drop it. We don’t know anyone here and we will never see them again.” She dropped her “Kleenex” and quickly slid into the water. Hey, when in Budapest, do as the “Budapestians” do!

Her ten-year medical odyssey began in August of 1998 when Bonnie was first diagnosed with a virulent, very aggressive form of breast cancer. It was remarkable journey in many ways, both for the repeated moments of triumph—as well as an equal number of times of darkness and despair.

Much of it is simply too deeply personal to recount—a conclusion that interestingly enough Bonnie and I each came to independently. We were each asked individually--several years after her transplant-- if we were willing to come and discuss her medical marathon experience of that first year at an Exponent retreat. When we talked about it with each other later, it was interesting that we both settled on the same words to describe that experience: No, it was simply too sacred to talk about.

It was year which included a mastectomy, several months of chemotherapy in preparation to harvest her stem cells, then a stem cell transplant – a period of such intense, high-dose chemotherapy that it literally brought her as close to death as possible in order to kill all the malignant cells, followed by her “rebirth” ---introducing the new stem cells back into a brand new “clean” system. That was followed several months later by six weeks of daily radiation treatments. Little did any of us know at that time, that this was just the beginning.

Knowing it would be nice to have a simple symbol to remind us we were in this together; Leslie went to work and made these clever little “prayer” bracelets for family and close friends. I have worn one pretty consistently over the past ten years ever since—in fact, I have worn out either four or five and have had to request a new one more than once. Leslie has always obliged me. Last summer when I told Bon my latest model was looking pretty shredded, she went on the hunt and spent half an hour searching around the condo-- as she was certain she had a couple more stashed somewhere and sure enough she found them.

“In my Father’s house are many mansions, if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.” John 14:2

As I headed to their condo last Wednesday afternoon, it suddenly became very clear to me that there was one last thing I needed to do—it was time for my prayer bracelet—that simple black cord with a silver bead (with a “blue B on one side and a black B on the other” for Bonnie) to go from my wrist to hers--- I knew I didn’t need it anymore, but I also understood that she did – for this was the last and most important leg of her journey home --and I wanted my prayers to go with her. So around 5:00 pm, after sitting with her for several hours, I quietly placed it on her tiny little wrist, kissed her on her forehead, stroked her arm one more time, told her that I loved her, thanked her for sharing this incredible journey with me and said good-bye.

In tenth verse of the 46th Psalm it reminds us so very simply, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Life…so fragile. Loss…so sudden. Hearts… so broken. And yet, there is the wonder of it all. In the wake of such a loss we may be haunted by things that we simply can’t control or the questions we may ask and yet still never understand. Yet the solace we seek may not come—even from the answers. So I look for comfort in my faith and trust in a loving Heavenly Father’s eternal care and concern for each and every one of us. May that love lift you, sustain you, hold you close and give each one of you peace.

Now, Gerald, Bonnie has something special just for you and you only. It was not written down in her list of wishes for this service for a reason—and for that same reason it was not included on the program for this celebration…because this is something she wanted to do just for you. So today, in this moment, with this song, she is reminding you once again of her great love for you--as Val Wise sings “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” It is her love song to you.