A friend died three days ago. Cheri was a teacher and writer by trade. We all knew IT was coming, but it still came as a shock when the news came. Her last March 1 Facebook posting:
“I have just entered at-home hospice care. I am dying of Caroli's disease, my lifelong companion.
PLEASE, NO SAD EMOJIS.
Your cards and emails will be treasured.
I have lived a remarkable life. Thank you for your part in it.
Cheri”
Since her passing there has been an exchange of emails between friends. The following is a tribute by Margadant, one of that group. I think he expressed our feelings of loss better than I can.
I feared that this news would shortly be forthcoming. Cheri does not have to fear “sad emojis” from me. I’ll celebrate her for the rest of my days just on the strength of her two books, Packinghouse Daughter and The Big Marsh. I’m thankful for The Big Marsh, because in it, Cheri taught me more about the country I grew up in, curelessly as it turned out. Cheri’s Packinghouse Daughter turned out to be a very emotional read; her chronicle of the Wilson’s strike brought back clear memories. I was shocked at the visceral reaction I had when I read the names of the Chicago players that figured in the strike; they were known among all the families with members in the various trade unions in town and we’d been schooled on them at our dinner tables. I reread the book a couple of years ago. I was somewhat calmer, but those names still rankled me. I admired Cheri for staying true to her mission. She wrote a memoir that is also excellent history. I recommended both books to my kids. Reading them will teach them a lot about the people, culture, and land that have something to do with who they are today.And a long overdue thank you to those teachers we all had at A.L. who taught us all to write.
-Gunnar
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