Friday, April 17, 2020
Bobbette was an artist of life. She explored every relationship and lived vertically. She may have lived until 87, but if we carefully review her life, you will discover it was years longer in real living. Look, if you will at her career in dying peoples hair. Without any training, and bold, if it didn’t work, I was able to find her house in Chicago on a warm day when the neighbors were out, and she was doing blond.
Whatever she was doing, it was always in technicolor and 3D, and if she ever met you for a moment, you remained in her genealogical files forever.
She brought life to life. She had a great laugh. She kept the memories of things you shared with her alive forever, and shared it with you, like it or not. But let me say this, I sometimes moaned but I treasured every moment.
We lived next door on Stuart Street. Our kitchen windows were opposite to each other, and our lives were intertwined. We were double second cousins. Our Stellor Grandfathers were brothers, and our Stellor Grandmothers were sisters.
We share a thousand memories which are running through my head. I am her children’s Uncle Howard, by personal declaration. And like many of you I celebrate her life and mourn her death. But I promise you there is more to come.
When this current plague lifts, we will gather in Denver in some small large venue, and each of you who comes will get a chance to share. Her kids, cousins, friends will remember each one and all together what her life meant to each of us.
It will be big.
With my love,
One of Bobbette’s most devoted fans,
Howard and Judy Karsh
