Shirley Hall An Autobiography, edited by Merrill Hall

“You were not born to fit in. You were born to shine.”

I have had a wonderful life, and now that I am almost 98 years old, I sometimes wonder what made it possible, and what can other people learn from my life?

First, I must give a credit to my parents for their influence. Even before I was born, my life was set in motion by many of the values they adopted. My father had come to California, traveling by train from his home in New Haven, Connecticut. He had completed three years at Yale University while living with his parents. He longed for independence and was ready to strike out on his own. He did intend to return to complete his electrical engineering degree, but first he wanted to see what the West had to offer. However, he decided to stay awhile because he liked the opportunities he saw, and he loved his

newfound independence. He would tell me later that the world is a grand place, and it would be a shame not to know what was out there.

Daddy took a job in Coalinga, California where he met my mother. They both worked at Bell Telephone Company. She was a switchboard operator, the old-fashioned kind where women were seated along a long panel, answering and connecting telephone calls with cords. Daddy was a line repairman for telephone and electrical wires, often working high on telephone poles. He told me while “working in the sky”, as he called it, he would sometimes secretly tap into a telephone line and call my mother at her switchboard. Mama was attracted to Daddy’s quiet self-confidence and adventuresome spirit. She knew a good thing when she saw it.

Daddy must have thought Mama was a real catch because she was

not only smart and beautiful, but determined to build a good life. She had a hard-nosed code of ethics and a spunky spirit. They admired each other so much, a romance soon ensued and they were married when Mama was just nineteen years old. I was born eighteen months later, March 3, 1917. They named me Shirley Avis Smith.

Another eighteen months later, my sister, Milly (Mildred Ina), was born. It was a joy having a sister so close to my age, and we were great buddies. Daddy (Merrill “Mel” Windship Smith) and Mama (Lillian Clare “Tinney” Cawelti Smith) worked hard to encourage values in Milly and

me. We were a close family, and we all worked as a team for our betterment. Mama and Daddy had a tremendous work ethic, and even at a young age, we were expected to help around the house.

I got more attention from Mama, while my sister was more of my

Daddy’s responsibility. Milly got to do more of what I considered fun things with my dad, like helping him mow the lawn, work in the garage, and even change the oil in our car. I sometimes wonder if my father gave my sister more attention because he really wanted a boy child, but

maybe it was just a division of labor that my parents unintentionally created. In later years, as you will see, Daddy made up for it by mentoring me. He inspired me to never give up on my dreams. Another good result was that, since Mama took more responsibility for me, I learned good homemaking skills. I loved helping her around the house, but I later developed a desire to not only be a good homemaker, but also have a career and other interests.

Mama was the disciplinarian and insisted on good behavior from my Milly and me. Daddy was more of a mentor and a teacher. It was a good combination for us because if there was something we really wanted to do, and Mama said no, we could always go to Daddy. I remember hearing Mama say “We will see; we will see. Let me think about it.” Then we would go begging to Daddy. Sometimes we would bargain to do more work around the house if they would give in. We would almost always get our way.

Some people would say we were spoiled rotten, but I don’t think so. We could have friends at our house often, or go several blocks away without supervision. We were good kids whose parents expected a lot from us. They wanted us to become independent. They wanted us to shine, not just fit in or never expect much of ourselves. They would say, “You were not born to fit in. You were born to shine.” I don’t know when I first heard these words or if Mom or Dad said it first, but those words stayed with me the rest of my life.

When I was five years old and Milly was four, Daddy started taking correspondence courses from Yale University to finish his degree. Daddy would study late at night at our kitchen table after the rest of us went to bed. Milly and I shared an upstairs bedroom, and still remember Mama yelling from her bedroom to my dad, “Merrill, come on to bed now. You’re going to be sorry tomorrow if you don’t get some sleep.” I also remember our family often driving to the post office to mail his lessons. Although Daddy already had completed three years at Yale in electrical engineering, he was now determined to finish his last year to get his degree. The correspondence course for his senior

year took him two years, but when graduated, great opportunities opened to him.

Daddy immediately began work with Metro Goldwyn Mayor (MGM), setting up lighting for movie sets in Hollywood, California. It was work he loved, and we loved to hear about it and see him at work. I remember my father taking Milly and me to see films being shot in the studios and back lots. He would set us high on top of a ledge, above the action, so we could see movie stars being filmed. It was great fun, and no one objected because we were quiet as a mouse.

We lived in the nearby city of Long Beach. It was a long commute from Daddy’s work, but Mama and Daddy chose to live there because Mama’s family lived there, and it had good schools. I started the first grade and Milly started kindergarten. It was a safe neighborhood, and before long, we were allowed to roller-skate to school and the town library. We had a feeling of independence that I wish all children had today. It was a feeling that the world was safe and ours to win.

Mama discouraged Daddy from his Hollywood job because, as she would say, “This movie business has no future.” After three years, Dad reluctantly took a more secure job with Shell Oil Company. Nevertheless, he enjoyed his engineering work at Shell and was well paid. We were not rich, just middle class, but we never seemed to struggle like others during the later depression years. However, when the 1929 depression hit, I think Daddy wondered what life would have been like if he had kept the riskier job with MGM because film studios quickly became more successful than anyone thought possible. Movies became popular, but Mama was always more cautious than Daddy. She wanted security and thought a steady eight-to-five job with a pension was the way to go. I know Daddy weighed his decisions carefully. So, when he took the job with Shell, I think he agreed that our security and having regular hours was more important at that time in our life. Still, it made me sad to think he settled for an 8:00 to 5:00 job because of us.

However, Daddy started a business of his own from home. I don’t think he did it because he needed the extra money. I think he just

enjoyed the challenge and keeping his independence by running a little business out of our garage. Many evenings and weekends, he would modernize people’s homes with electrical circuits. Sometimes he would wire their whole house with electricity. Most people paid quickly, but a few customers did not. Mama told me later that she would get so angry, she would threaten to go knock on their door for payment. I guess Daddy was not a good bill collector. Nonetheless, Mama was pleased that he never had to solicit work. People just came to him because they knew he did good work. After a few years, Daddy had to give up being the electrician for our neighborhood and friends. I never knew why he stopped, but I suspect it was because people failed to pay during the depression years, and that Mama wanted him at home more.

Mama was more cautious and practical, but what I especially admired about her was that she taught Milly and me good behavior. When I got in trouble, I would have rather had my mouth washed out with soap or a spanking than get a tongue-lashing from her. She would never allow us to be rude to others, and she was good at setting boundaries, like making Milly and me do our homework and chores.

However, I was always glad Daddy was there to promote some fun in our lives. Due to my father’s influence, for example, we went camping almost every summer at Yosemite National Park. Daddy would plan our summer vacations long in advance. He would reserve a spot for us and some of our neighbors. When the time came, Mama, Milly, and I would help him pack our car. It was a four door Studebaker with a rounded top. The back floor and seat were packed flat so that Milly and I had a small bed. It was a long drive to Yosemite. Not only was the back seat and the trunk loaded with camping gear, we also had a car-top carrier for our suitcases. The object of our camping, according to Daddy, was to live comfortably in the wilderness. We had many of the comforts of home: chairs, a table, a Coleman gas stove, and gas lanterns. We even slept in cots with springs under a big green army tent. We worked together to set up camp, even raising all our food high

into a tree to keep it away from bears. Daddy would get up early each morning to go trout fishing. He would bring back his catch and fry it up for breakfast.

During my pre-teen and teen years, Milly and I both excelled in

school. We were honor students, and we both had other interests that enriched our development. One of the things we loved the most was going to the beach with friends and family. Sometimes we invited relatives and friends to meet us at night on the beach. It was especially fun when the grunions were running. Grunions were tiny little fish that washed up on the beach once a year during a full moon. It seemed like there were thousands of the shiny little things flopping on the beach. They would burrow in the sand to lay their eggs. Everyone would gather on the beach with buckets to catch them. Even the youngest children would help pick them up. The adults would fry them over the campfire and eat them whole. Milly and I thought they were disgusting and would not take a bite, but the adults munched them down, bones and all. We just liked being there and singing around the campfire with

friends and family. It was just one of the many fun things we did together.

My favorite sport was tennis, and when I was ten years old, Daddy arranged for me to work as a ball girl for a professional tennis player. I would retrieve tennis balls during practice matches for Bill Tilden. He was known as the greatest tennis player of that time. As payment for my work as a ball girl, Mr. Tilden gave me tennis lessons. I became inspired to play tennis every chance I got. I competed in many tournaments, eventually becoming the California junior-girl’s tennis champion. My tennis tournaments were usually attended by not only my family, but many other relatives and friends. I had a great cheering section.

Mama and Daddy help my sister excel too. Daddy taught Milly to drive when she was sixteen and helped her get a driver’s license. That enabled her to start a journalism career during high school, working as a reporter for a local newspaper. She loved her work so much that she sometimes chased ambulances and fire trucks to get the scoop. She became an accomplished newspaper reporter and was given her own byline column. That started her toward a successful writing career.

Daddy became sick when I was a senior in high school. We did not know what was wrong at first. He just got weaker and weaker, but his illness was eventually diagnosed as pernicious anemia. Looking back, I believe he must have also had a bleeding ulcer. There was no iron pill for anemia at that time, so he had no other choice but to eat raw liver. He often gagged and threw up when he ate it. I felt terribly sorry for him. He became so weak that he had to give up his engineering job at Shell Oil Company. After a couple of years, he went back to work at Shell, but had to take a menial job. He worked as a gatekeeper at the employee parking entrance. It was a humiliating turn of events after working as a respected electrical engineer. He had a decent little guard-shack, but in his condition, it was still an exhausting job. Mama, Milly, and I would often take him a hot lunch or dinner. However, he accomplished his goal to finish his tenure so he could retire with pay.

I knew that there must be a cure for my father; medical cures were being discovered every day. I read all I could about anemia, but Daddy did not want me to worry about him. I remember him saying that I must focus on choosing my own career-path; that my life was mine, and I must carefully choose how to live it. In my senior year of high school, due to Daddy’s illness, I decided to become a registered nurse. Mama also supported and encouraged me to attend junior college to get the necessary credits for admission to nursing school.

I have always admired my mother for meeting the challenge of daddy’s illness. Somehow, she reached deep in her soul and found the strength to not only run the household, but also to nurse daddy back to health. Milly and I helped her every way we could. We had just one car, so Mama spent much of her time driving, shuttling Daddy and Milly to work and me to college. While attending junior college, Mama even took me to visit nursing schools. I will forever be grateful to her.

It became my dream to attend the nursing school at the Episcopal Hospital of the Good Samaritan in Los Angeles. It was one of the best hospitals in the nation, and they offered a work-study program, which

was ideal for me because I did not want to burden my parents. I was overjoyed when I was accepted to their nursing school in 1937. It was the time of the Great Depression, and I felt lucky to be paid room-and-board, plus fifteen dollars per month, enough to pay my expenses.

“Keep moving forward. Persistence is ninety percent of success.”

Daddy had recovered from his pernicious anemia by then. His

recovery was mainly due to the discovery of the Blaud's pills, more commonly known as iron pills. He had continued to work every day throughout his illness, and his undaunted determination inspired me. We would have serious conversations, usually while eating dinner. I knew he was going to say something important when he would start a conversation by saying things like “Shirley, you can do anything you set your mind to. … Keep a curious mind and expand your horizons. … You know, moving something as small as a grain of sand may change your whole life, and maybe even the world. … Take responsibility for your actions. … Momentum is a powerful thing. Keep moving forward. Persistence is ninety percent of success.” I knew it was grooming me to be on my own. I am forever thankful for his caring and guidance; he helped me to think and develop my values and goals.

So, I left home and began my nursing training with high hopes. I had my own private room in the dorm, just across the street from the hospital. I loved the independence, knowing I was the superintendent of my life. I would follow every rule and dedicate myself to do my best. I was eager each morning to see what adventures lay ahead. I was living my dream.

There were twenty-four students in my 1937 class. Breakfast was at 7:00 AM and classes started at 8:00. We started with the basics of the great medical advances, such as Joseph Lister’s discovery of the need for cleanliness and antiseptics during surgery, and Louis Pasteur and Robert Koch’s germ theory of disease. We also learned to respect the scientific approach, in other words the critical thinking that distinguishes justified belief from opinion.

Then in the afternoons, we had on-the-job training. I was lucky that my first assignment was to work in the nursery with newborn babies. Part of my job was to make ink footprints of babies. I made extra footprints for myself of famous babies, such as the son of Gary Cooper, the movie star. By 4:00 PM, I was off work. Ten minutes later, I had changed into my tennis clothes, a white blouse and shorts, and I was playing tennis with the interns. They were impressed with my tennis skills, but I did not tell them I had been playing tennis since I was ten. They did not need to know that. Sometimes I would let them win to keep the play interesting.

But my favorite extracurricular activity was singing in our nursing school choir. And I am proud to say that my best friend and I started a singing group. We went from room to room with a petition, asking

other students to join our choir. Luckily, one of our teachers volunteered to be our choir director, and our petition was approved. We practiced often. Four other nursing schools got word of what we were doing and asked if they could practice with us. One thing led to another, and before long all five schools joined together to form a giant choir. Altogether, there were about ninety of us. We sang so well that we were asked to perform at the famous Hollywood Bowl and many other places. We dressed in our bib and tucker uniforms and sang classical songs. People said we sounded like angels. It was one of the highlights of my new life.

I dated some nice men during my nursing school. One boyfriend

even proposed marriage, but I had to turn him down because he wanted me to spend more time with him than I wanted to give. It really hurt me to say no and break up with him. He was a good man who loved me dearly, but I had promised to my father and myself that I would graduate before I married. Besides, I was enjoying my independence too much to settle down.

Maybe it appeared to others that I was having too much fun because the headmaster reprimanded me and told my mother and father that “Shirley is burning her candle at both ends.” I was terribly embarrassed that she would say such a thing to my parents—the people I admired most. Thank goodness, my parents took it “with a grain of salt” after I told them the whole story about my boyfriend. I explained that I had already taken responsibility for my actions and broken up, even before the headmaster said anything about it. Although my work and my grades were never a problem, this incident made me more determined than ever to show everyone how capable I was.

The last nine months of my training were the most challenging. There were no more classes, just on-the-job training and hard work. I was assigned three fulltime jobs, one after the other, each lasting three months. The first was as a surgical assistant. One of the surgeons I assisted was Dr. Smith. Since my last name was Smith, he liked to say “Well here we are again, the great team of Smith and Smith.” My second three-month assignment was working in the sanitarium for

tuberculosis patients. I was pleased that many of our patients recovered due to my team’s good care. My final, and hardest assignment, was making home visits with people who were too sick or poor to come to the hospital for follow-up treatment. That was especially difficult. I had to ride the trolley and find my way into strange neighborhoods wearing my nurse uniform. I taught my patients how to care for their own recovery. I showed them, for example, how to change the dressing for their wounds, how to take their medications, and how to change their diet. It was difficult work that gave me valuable confidence I would use later in life.

After I graduated from nursing school, I moved to Bakersfield, California where my parents had relocated in 1938. It was there I met my future husband, John Allen Hall, who worked in the oil fields. I met him at a community dance. After one dance, he asked if he could have all the dances throughout the evening. I was shocked that he was so bold, but I agreed. When I was ready to come home, although I had agreed to phone my father to pick me up, instead I asked my father if John could drive me home. Daddy trusted me and said yes. John was a perfect gentleman and treated me like a princess. Before John said goodnight, he asked me if he could come back the next day and meet my mother and father. I said yes, and so … our romance began.

The next day, John came back early and met my parents. My father liked John right away. They talked for a long time, mostly about John’s plans to quit his rough-necking job on oil rigs and start a business. John explained that he had attended the University Of Chicago for a year on a full scholarship, and he planned to finish his education after he helped his father start a business. But for now, John was saving money to help his father design and sell tools for oil well drilling. Mama was maybe a little less enthusiastic about John. It is not that she did not like him; it was just that she hoped I would marry a doctor or someone with an established career, and was concerned that I was moving too fast. However, I knew there was something special about this man. I admired him immensely. He was ambitious, self-

assured, and good looking. Soon after that, John even joined my church and was baptized.

I continued to work at the county hospital assisting surgeons while I dated John. About six months later, we were married in an Episcopal church on September 12, 1939. We then moved to Bakersfield, California and rented a nice little house. Our firstborn child was Jeanie, born August 30, 1940. Johnny was born exactly one year later, to the day. I was happy being a wife, a mother, and a homemaker. Nevertheless, I missed my work, my old friends, and my family.

Then, an event happened that drastically changed our lives. It took me by surprise. John had given his father $500.00 and did not even ask me if he could. When I questioned him about it, he said he was sorry he did not talk to me about it, but after talking to his dad, his dad said he needed the money quickly to get a patent for his first invention which he called a scratcher. It was a brilliant invention, a tool that no one had ever thought of before for the completion of oil wells. It consisted of a ring of steel that had flexible spring-fingers sticking out like a bottle brush. It was device that is fastened to the outside of casing pipe to remove mud from the wall of the well hole. It conditioned the hole for superior cementing and prevented a blowout of oil and gas above the ground. John told me that he was sure this was a good investment because now oil wells could be completed properly. Not only would they be safer, but they would remain productive longer. Soon after that, John quit his job and left me at home while he formed a company with his father in Weatherford, Texas. They named it the Weatherford Spring Company. It was the forerunner to the highly successful Weatherford Oil Tool Company.

John called me often, and promised we would be together soon. He told me about the progress he and his father were making. John’s father was named Jess Hall, Sr, but we called him Papa. He was a tremendously inventive and productive entrepreneur. Soon John and Papa got more patents and were manufacturing not only scratchers,

but also centralizers and other tools for oil wells. It was a great day for us when John made the first sale for his father in 1942. It was only a $50,000.00 sale, but in those days, it seemed like a million. The well owners saw their profits skyrocket, and the news of their success spread. Demand was so great for the new oil tools, that John’s father asked John’s three brothers to join the company. They made a great team.

In California, I was lonesome without John, but then he sent for me. I had been home with our two babies for four months without him. We were to move in with his parents until we could afford a place of our own. Determined to be a good wife, I sold and gave away most of our belongings and packed only what I could carry on the train with our two children. I remember being disappointed when we arrived at the train station. Weatherford seemed strange to me compared to California. John’s mother met me at the train station. She was named Rhoda Ophelia Musgrove Hall, but we affectionately called her Dota. She was good to me, but living under her roof was not the life I had envisioned. I felt that I lost my independence. In addition to that, John often had to work out-of-town, and I was lonely for him. I knew I had to be patient, but it was hard for me to live with my in-laws and raise two children. My life was turned upside down. Besides everything else, the Texas food was different form my taste. I had never even heard of black-eyed peas.

Even though I loved my husband, it was hard for me to leave my parents in California and build a new life in this small Texas town. I wrote many a tearful letter to my parents, but Mama encouraged me “to look for the good”, and my dad wrote “be patient—it will get better soon.” It took a year or so, but I fell in love with all of Texas. Now I even like black-eyed peas.

Papa Jess and his four sons made quite a team. It was an amazing

sight to see their enthusiasm. George “Dub”, Elmer, Jess Jr, and John all worked tirelessly to build their business. When they were all seated in Dota’s dining room, they were a loud group and pretty much dominated the conversation, mostly talking about building the business. Dota and I would serve the meals, but I was always impressed that the men were all total gentlemen; for example, not one of them would eat until Dota, my children, and I were seated.

However, it was a wonder that I did not run away. John and his brothers were almost totally absorbed by their work and frequently out of town selling oil tool equipment. I was lonely for my husband, but had to be patient while he developed our company. Weatherford Oil Tool grew at an amazing rate. John’s father and his brothers built a manufacturing assembly line right by a rail road track so they could quickly ship boxcars full of oil well tools. They purchased fleets, in other words seven at a time, of Beechcraft airplanes. They hired pilots, fresh out of the Navy and Air Force, so they could quickly get their salesmen to wherever they needed to be, selling and servicing the installation of their tools on the oil rigs. They even built their own airport in

Weatherford, which was later demolished. Shirley Hall Middle School now occupies that site.

John was gone weeks at a time, and after almost two years of me living with his mother and father, I had had enough. I was pregnant with my third child and was ready for a home of our own. It was not that I did not like Dota and Papa Jess; they were great. It was just that I wanted a home of my own. So, while John was off on a sales trip, I put a hundred and forty dollars down for the first month of rent on a small two-bedroom house. I remember it well; it was 1945, and Dota felt sorry for me and helped me paint the inside of the house. I was just about ready to move in when Papa Jess discovered what I was doing. He told me that if I wanted to move so badly, he would just give me a house he had built. By the time John came home, I had already started moving in our new house. John was happy because I was happy, but he did insist that we pay back his father. My baby, Merrill Richard, was born soon thereafter in a house of our own.

Four years later, my fourth child was born. We named her Shirley Ann “Shan.” Then, four years later, I had Milly Sue. John and I then had five children from the age of one to thirteen years old. That was a lot to handle. My husband had to change his ways; he stayed home more and took more responsibility raising our children. There was something going on all the time, but we loved it, at least most of the time. John and I had not only a Girl Scout, a Boy Scout, a Cub Scout, and a Brownie, but also one in diapers, all at the same time. I volunteered to lead each of their clubs at one time or another. I was also a Sunday school teacher and a PTA member. John and I never considered our efforts a sacrifice; it was just what we wanted to do. Similarly, when our three oldest children were in college at the same time, John and I cashed in our life insurance to pay for their education. It was just the right thing to do. Eventually, all five of our children got college degrees.

My favorite volunteer work at that time in my life was mentoring elementary school students who were not achieving well. I worked part-time in the HOSTS program (Helping One Student to Succeed). I

enjoyed meeting with students in their school, 30 minutes a day, just one-on-one. I read to them, listened to them, encouraged them, and counseled them. It not only helped the children with their reading skills, but I was amazed to see that their attitudes changed. They became calmer and more focused.

“I always supported the faculty concerning their

needs and their freedom to excel in the classroom.” In 1960, I ran for a place on the school board and won. I liked the

school board work so much, that after I completed my first term, I ran for it again, and again, etc. I won the school board election repeatedly and stayed on the board for 30 years. I was known as a strong advocate of college preparatory courses, school sponsored apprentice programs, girl’s athletic programs, the recruitment of the best teachers available, and for starting a pilot program for gifted and talented children. The gifted and talented pilot program served as a model for the much wider programs we now have across Texas and other states. I always supported teachers concerning their needs and their freedom to excel in the classroom. When I left the school board in 1990, the Shirley Hall Middle School was named after me in honor of my service.

When my children were grown, in 1980 I was elected president of the Texas School Board Association which required me to travel to Austin frequently. This gave me a platform to support the educational issues I believe in and gave me a feeling of satisfaction I never dreamed possible when I was young. Later, The Texas Association of School Boards (TSBA) asked me to write the history of the organization, so I temporarily moved to Austin in 1985 for a year to do the research and writing.

After my husband died in 2004, I continued to live in my home in Weatherford for a few more years. It was difficult to get over my loss, but John always wanted me to thrive. My son, Merrill, and my daughter, Milly, wanted me to sell my house and move closer to them. After much thought, I did sell my house and moved into an apartment

near them. Later, I moved to Vickery Towers, a high-rise community for independent retirement living. I enjoyed my small apartment there and the many planned activities. After a serious back problem in 2012, I moved once again to Garnet Hill, where I now live. While here, I have overcome my back pain, mostly due to a fine rehabilitation and exercise program. The encouragement and health-care I have received here has been vital to my wellbeing. I will always be grateful to the staff and all my friends at Garnet Hill who helped me keep my spirits high.

“Never give up on your dreams.”

I have had a wonderful life—and still do. I presently enjoy my

friends and my extended family. I am a member of the Episcopal Church of the Incarnation in Dallas. I love to read, especially biographies and stories of people who overcome obstacles. I still love to mentor children and young adults. So far, I have nineteen God-children in the Episcopal Church. It is my hope that even after I am gone, my memory will remain with all my loved ones and give them strength.

I have had many advantages during my life, but I have also worked hard to build a good life for myself and others. I would like to encourage anyone who reads this to choose their values early in life and develop a dream, a vision of how their life should be and can be. It isn’t obvious or automatic to know how to develop yourself. You must think and decide your goals or values. It is a high achievement to do so, but it is possible to us all. Start by improving your life one little step at a time. Don’t wait to be taught everything; seek knowledge on your own. Commit to speaking out for what you believe and what you love. What you admire becomes part of you. Stay strong and finish well, no matter what. Your life may be much different than mine, but you too can also have a good life if you never give up on your dreams.

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END NOTES BY MERRILL HALL My mother, Shirley Hall, died of congestive heart failure on April

10, 2015, just a few months after completing her autobiography. I gave her a printed copy with my edits on her 98th birthday of March 3. She was thrilled to see her writing project in print.

She remained strong and active almost to the end, never giving up on life. All through her life, she found a way to bounce back from whatever life threw at her. Her supreme ability was to stay positive and maintain her sense of purpose, always looking forward to something else she wanted to do. She greeted you with a smile that said I love you. Friends and family loved to be around her, maybe because when you were with her, you felt like the world was good and anything was possible.