Sleeping with the Lights On (and Other Remembrances of New Jersey) (Short Stories by Kerry Gleason)

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The musical opened on May 21, , at The Broadway Theatre. Throughout the performance run of Gypsy, Mervyn LeRoy saw it numerous times, and repeatedly assured Merman that he planned to cast her in the film adaptation he was preparing. However, prior to the show's closing, it was announced that Rosalind Russell had been signed to star, instead. Russell's husband, theatre producer Frederick Brisson whom Merman later called "the lizard of Roz" , [ citation needed ] had sold the screen rights to the Leonard Spigelgass play A Majority of One to Warner Bros.

Because Russell was still a major box office draw with the success of Auntie Mame a few years earlier, and Merman never having established herself as a popular screen presence, the studio agreed to Brisson's terms. Merman was devastated at this turn of events and called the loss of the role, "The greatest professional disappointment of my life.

Following the Broadway closing of Gypsy on March 25, , Merman half-heartedly embarked on the national tour. In San Francisco, she severely injured her back, but continued to play to packed houses. During the Los Angeles run, LeRoy visited her backstage and claimed Russell was so ill, "I think you're going to end up getting this part.

She finally joined the cast on March 28, , six years after the production opened. On Merman's opening night, her performance was continually brought to a halt by prolonged standing ovations and the critics unanimously heralded her return to the New York stage. Merman received the Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Performance for what proved to be her last appearance on Broadway. For the remainder of her career, Merman worked as frequently as offers were made.

In , she recorded The Ethel Merman Disco Album , with many of her signature songs are set to a disco beat. Her last screen role was a self- parody in the comedy film Airplane! In the cameo appearance, Merman leaps out of bed singing " Everything's Coming Up Roses " as orderlies restrain her. She also volunteered at St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital Center working in the gift shop or visiting patients. Merman was known for her powerful, belting mezzo-soprano voice and precise enunciation and pitch. Broadway lore holds that George Gershwin advised her never to take a singing lesson after she opened in his Girl Crazy.

Caryl Flinn's biography includes a very large amount of quotes from reviews of Merman's work, most of which were compliments to her. Brooks Atkinson summed up her talent: She makes a song seem like a spontaneous expression of her personality, which may be regarded as the ultimate skill in the art of singing songs.

Merman was married and divorced four times. Her first marriage, in , was to theatrical agent William Smith. They were divorced in The couple had two children: Ethel born July 20, [43] and Robert, Jr. Merman and Levitt were divorced in Merman's fourth and final marriage was to actor Ernest Borgnine. They were married in Beverly Hills on June 27, She was granted a divorce on November 18, By the end, he recounted how she came back from a film one day and said, "The director said I looked sensational. He said I had the face of a year-old, and the body and legs of a year-old!

In a radio interview, she said of her many marriages: That's why they put rubbers on pencils, and that's what I did. I made a few lulus! Ethel Levitt, her daughter, died on August 23, , of a drug overdose that was ruled accidental. Merman was notorious for her brash demeanour and for telling vulgar stories at public parties. You know my rules. That'll cost you a dollar. Merman, a lifelong Republican , was a frequent guest at the Eisenhower White House. Merman co-wrote two memoirs.

Originally from Jonesville, Va. Lydia paints on a charming smile; she knows Real Lydia is limp. Lydia is shocked to hear the familiar voice. Real Lydia shouts now, I want to hold him, I want to know him. She screams at Lydia, Stop pretending to be Real Lydia. Help me come out. So long, best wishes. He loves books and Anime in that order. He has had some of his muddled thoughts published in a few e-magazines.

But I want you as if these thousand yesterdays were simply seconds, as if I can feel your fingers from only last night. Virginia Archer is the pen name of a very busy lady who has a BEng. She was born in the UK, but has lived most of her life on the tropical island paradise of Saint Lucia, where she currently resides with her tween daughter.

You can find more of her poetry at https: I got it the day we went swimming, the last swim of the summer. You had me hold your wet boxers like a flag on the back of your bike, flowing in the wind as we drove home. But my knee scraped across the rocks and now I have this mark, I have this scar. It was the day you told me you loved me, the only time you voiced it. And the two weeks that it lingered with me before you took it back, before you made it seem like less than, it washed over me, through me, and I finally felt at ease. The way I thought you felt for months, possibly more than a year, had finally been confirmed.

At least for those two weeks, until you were too scared to let it be. Until you had to go back on what you said. Because, that, being out in the open, is earth shattering. So now I look at this scar, and I fear that it will fade. It was just a light scratch. I want it there. I want it forever. To remember the day you told me you loved me.

You already took it back, but the scar is my reminder. I need that reminder. Or is what I feel for you a special breed? Because one second I feel my heart swell when I see you, and the next I feel crushed beneath your words. Does all love make you feel insane? Or are you just great at driving me that way? Does all love make you cry? Or am I just prone to tears? Does all love come with fear? Or are we just cowards? Katie Blanchette is a staff reader for the literary journal Spark Anthology and has worked in copywriting for four years.

We pick at tobacco threads between teeth and cradle cold gun metal, etched with fingernails. We take comfort in the familiar and the familial; the last of the scent soaked into the last letter she sent. Simon Cockle is a poet and writer from Hertfordshire, England. He was invited to read at the Ledbury Poetry Festival in England this year. He teaches English in a local secondary school where he edits their literary magazine, The Thinkery. He is also a musician and songwriter; and clearly now, in light of recent events, is on the more direct path to a Nobel Prize for Literature.

Not with trees to walk under, their fragrant sap wanting only to drip drunkenly from above. Seventeen, and foolish, your mouth is open yelling poems at whoever walks by. Only trees and the shy woman who says she will never love you but does anyway— until you fall under the spell of more sappy trees and call yourself lover once again to leaves, branches, mirrors, and poems and novels that never call you by your right name. If a lover like you, met a lover like me, wounded and out of breath — out of words, out of steam, out of excuses — imagine the infinite possibilities of sadness.

Some hearts are not meant to be homes. But you, you were the hardest to get over. You made a space for yourself in my head. By nightfall, the putrefaction was complete.

These long periods of waiting and wanting are a waste of my resources. Cooters need to be coddled. Pussy cats need to hiss and spit and purr and mew. I come to you riding tidal waves. I come promising to make the stone walls in your body, sing. I come bearing spices in the abyss between my legs. I come flying on fallen wings as they cruise the sky collecting moondust on the way.

I am a flower, over-ripe and pungent. My orchid is ripe for plucking. You are the key. This waiting will ruin me. I have spare keys. I am good enough myself, to go downtown and get me going. Elvis may have left the building, but Edith is coming home tonight. This kitty, will roar. One could hear it move in a silence that was overpowered only by the noise of our tongues as flesh met flesh. We watched each other suck the flesh off the seed, slurpingly, hungrily, and riveted. We continue to eat. An invitation is extended.

Can they see the naked lust that runs in circles behind my breasts? Can they see the lonely love that sits crying in my bones? Can they see the utter shame that burns behind my eyes? But regardless, I still do. Her other passion is theatre. Not enough of us live here for it. I simply sprinkle the soiled pads and things into their bin, half-exposed.

I learned this recently and from myself alone. Since she could read, Mackenzie Dwyer has known a longing to make a mark on literature. But another landmark decision of hers was to drop out of marksmanship Junior Olympics qualifying rounds to go earn her black belt and a concussion. He does not see me with lights on just shapes. He knows what to do.

He is okay with not seeing me. I was not okay. I opened and he looked. He could see me and I am sixteen, inexperienced virgin. I ask if it hurts. I close my eyes and wait. He thinks I am waiting for a kiss. I am blocking myself from seeing him, seeing him look at me the way he was looking at me like I was beautiful like I was a woman or something.

It is six years later. He is seeing me again with clothes on wondering if I will take them off. She said each time I talked to him I lost something else. When I stopped talking to him for a while, out of my own needs, she noted color coming back to my face and that I smiled a real smile again.

I told him no twice but he still thinks I want to be on my knees in my heels servicing him in any and every way. I told him no, dream about me in my wine colored heels with dick sucking lips to match. Ashley Elizabeth is a something poet from Baltimore who draws inspiration from her city, her people, her space, and her body. She has been featured in the online journal Rose Water. Short chunks of stone we put together afterward into a smooth stream. And I put you together with love, which is not in pieces, but a lifetime. David Flynn was born in the textile mill company town of Bemis, TN.

His jobs have included newspaper reporter, magazine editor and university teacher. His literary publications total more than one hundred and ninety. His web site is at http: Her newest collection , Interval: A new book, A Doubtful House , which the above poem comes from, will be out in Sheri Gabbert lives in the small town of Mount Vernon in Southwest Missouri, in the Ozarks; she has lived there since She is a substitute teacher but has been a professional writer. She has written for small town and county newspapers, Magazine, Street Buzz and has had poems published in Moon City Review and new graffiti.

Better not wait for my wedding I never find enough flowers unsevered close to the earth that cast no self-fulfilling shade. Mori Glaser grew up in the UK and moved to Israel 30 years ago. She has blogged and written material for non-profits. He drifts to sleep thinking of the possibility of a life of insignificance in that second rate village with a woman believing he hung the moon every evening after the bocce game by the fountain in the square.

The man smoking a cigarette on his patio thinking how he wants to be with someone else somewhere else. The woman washing dishes inside, lips silent where once there was a song. Nothing in particular just a song that moonlight can no longer raise in her heart. Robert Halleck fills his retirement years with open mike poetry readings, hospice volunteering, and racing Marlene, his old but still sturdy Porsche.

In recent years his poems have appeared in the San Diego Poetry Annuals and a number of other interesting places that show up in a Google Search. Otherwise, he is a UK-qualified shipping lawyer living and working in Greece. Hand over hand hot soft we climb the ladder of we, the ladder disappears we are fire eating each other with everything and grace such detailed grace, the signatures of flame.

Eyes raising eyes, mouth mouth, belly belly long ago your warm wet cock became my engine air air, two voices drawing signs in it a long way off; In the fire I have become a new, intelligence unknown before, different than youandme, but is becoming only light. We go back clean, our bodies boats at anchor all but still. Louise Larchbourne is also an actor, an editor, and a sometime lexicographer.

She was one of the poets invited to contribute to the new anthology For Jeremy Corbyn. She has a trullo in Puglia. I stretch in my chair and my heart goes ranging out of me looking for your essence; the deeper something I can never break into, the hidden something you keep back. I can only hope it is beautiful. I am eating large, green olives, pushing my tongue inside, searching for the red, soft pimento and sucking them out one after another, swallowing them whole. I crush rubbery bodies between molars; glands twinge from the bitter. Instead, you kneel on sweating summer linoleum, slowly move your hand to lift the edge of my sundress.

Earlier—we baked our swollen bodies in July sun, stood with friends, sucked melting ices from wrinkled thumbs. When I jumped headlong into the blue-green pool, you followed. My hands finding your neck, I licked your ear while you clutched my thigh in the water. We knew then what we wanted. Now, it is here—silence crushing us with its howl. You rest your day-stained head in my lap. I feel the moistened breath, salted air, longing in your fingers. I slide from the chair to the floor; you pop me into your mouth.

As a licensed social worker, Muuss specializes in the use of the arts as a healing mechanism for trauma survivors. I held my breath while I crossed the border. He maneuvers my Hyundai Spaceship to a town he hardly knows. I am no help. He laughs, says not to worry. Allison Paster-Torres was raised by a pack of wild libraries. She knows how to spell at least ten words in the English language, and can easily be talked into doing almost anything if you tell her it will be an adventure, even if this is obviously a lie.

Should you feel so inclined, you may find her at Facebook. You always reminded me of songs, of sense within sound: People are so unattractive when sex has become uninteresting. Outside of poetry, his path has been quite various, and he has made my way through things like software engineering, information science, and labor.

I was swollen and could not perform well for you for a few days and for that master I am so sorry. I felt cool vanilla and chocolates pouring over me and numbing the pain I felt. Pretty soon I had healed and so had your urge for another hangover. Out we went, just like every night.

You and your same buddies, Britney or Madonna surrounded me in a muffled haze. Tonight seemed to be all about limes, I tasted a lot of citrus this particular eve. I heard a new voice and met a new friend.

Heaven Ride: Sojourn of Souls (Heaven Ride Trilogy Book 1)

He and I exchanged a lot of saliva and words while you pushed me into his home. I visit a lot of people like me. Master you must have a lot of friends. This night I got to know this mate very well. We grazed each other in a wet hello and discussion about our different problems with our masters.

He marveled at my addition, I prided him on how well you treated and cared for me to allow me to look this fancy. Then we said our goodbyes while you used my addition to rub up and down his erected shaft. I love the sensations this metal contraption has given not only me but other creatures. You love to please others and so do I.

After this adventure you rolled off this nameless stranger and let water river over me. Blake Barringer was born, raised, and lives in St. Louis, where he studies English at the University of Missouri St. He spends his free time reading, writing, vinyl collecting, or attending many concerts. He is a mega fan of Madonna and Gwen Stefani. She lives with her husband and three cats and travels the world whenever she gets the chance. I stand by my misanthropy. As such, performance poetry spoken word delights, because so much of it is about social justice in its manifold forms — even in sex and love.

Also, in spoken word there is a good deal of room for a rude joke and an honest complaint. I open my mouth to taste the muddy summer air. A pink rose tonight, something dusky. One finger to my palm, one finger to his boutonniere. Three petals in my hand, already browning: He will stay tomorrow. When the ship moves out? String the night with open fists. Alicia Cole is a writer and visual artist in Huntsville, AL. You can find her work at www. I said yes; this, perhaps, was her signal. I just visited home, no longer excommunicated.

We shopped, gossip swapped, and I, in the end, learned that sacred is as sacred does. Do not yield to expectations of relations who do not sanction you. I once taught Algerian military men, taught them how to speak and pen English. They had wives at home, wives following ancient religious tome, banned from restaurants alone or flaunting pretty cheekbones.

They had wives and girlfriends who waited years in their head coverings, who grew dates with their in-laws hovering near. Opinions can sear, but no matter the geographic location, the spiritual persuasion, the rules of homestead or traditions, love is still knitted in committed forever. It cannot be severed. My wife and I are opposites. I read fiction and poetry, lit.

I cry at lost kittens and she tells me I cannot bring them home—no matter how smitten. I may speak less-than-love, throw myself on the bed and cry. But I always try again. This is marriage, too. This is human, me or you. Marriage means those deleted scenes may include one spouse being hangry and rude, the other tired and in such a mood that the first might hide inside a closet. What can I do for you? Real love grows daily, plays fairly, apologizes and, yes, occasionally mesmerizes, still, after decades.

I did not know who I could be, how I could see peripherally before those vows. There is no greener grass, there is no all encompassing pass to happiness, but I will confess my wife is nothing less than my forgiveness-wrapped better half. She is married with two children. Too much product on too little hair. Robert Ford lives on the east coast of Scotland. More of his work can be found at wezzlehead. Our lives are so common, becoming ever more boring, and we cringe at the tedium and pretend this is all still fun. I adore the disease that we share, eating our hearts out and drinking the juices of our spite, trying to find the thing we lost, held most valued.

Breathing the fumes of the tar that holds us together, my love for you will never end. On Twitter Deranged2 and Facebook and Amazon. Michele Leavitt, a poet and essayist, is also a high school dropout, hepatitis C survivor, and former trial attorney. Next June , you tell me in the same breath as I like him a lot — the way another word stumbles out of your mouth before the previous one is finished like our steps two Junes ago, running and jumping into lakes faster than our minds could remind us that we could not rely on the cold to appease our desire for embrace.

We craved that brief moment of forgetting, suspended in air, asking will this last? Still, uncertainty was easier to take if doubt had no time to threaten the slow of my running start, which is why I said I love you too before your lips could wrap around you. Meaning the fall was over — a happy ending until my arms grew tired of treading water.

Now, your voice echoes on the other side of the phone line like a face of forgotten belonging. She wants to have the wedding in Cabo. You pause, and I can feel your eyes sighing into me from miles away — that look of trying to comprehend the existence of what is before you.

Only the hum of static from you in response, obscuring your intent as it ripples the air like a body landing feet-first in the river. I cry to this song , you tell me. I am sorry to even imagine the word. This is letting my muscles memorize how it feels to hold another so that each time I wipe a tear from my face, I think of my hands tracing your outline. I remember how for one moment, there was no loss, how for one moment, I had something to lose. Allie Long is an economics and English double-major at the University of Virginia. Read more of her work at alliesanxietydiaries. The music gets to me, so I cave in.

Three times we dance around this tiny space in silent swirls and turns and contra checks to the frivolous swish of this Strauss waltz past piles of cans and coal and the unheated stove, my hand splayed on your narrow back, and flexed. So instead of facing reality we play pretend, practice being real artists: Jordan Makant is a junior history major at Lenoir-Rhyne University with a minor in creative writing. Jordan hopes to volunteer, travel, and write after he graduates from college, and intends to go to graduate school at some point after that.

I find you naked. I am myself naked, amazed, a shimmer, wretched, soft. What can I do blinded and mute. Bewildered you keep your gaze ferocious, devouring the dark, your sex wet and hurting with the memory of your first ejaculation, your lips no longer in need of the child you were. Your way of being licks me like a dog. I extend my hand towards your thighs and blow by blow they separate, and meet, and turn into a fiery gap in turmoil on the bed sheet.

Take me, kneel, part your lips from my sex. Come back, hurtle, howl, slit the darkness and rain inside me! I was the feathered comet tail of your what-could-have-been. Ortiz is the founding editor of Undertow Tanka Review. He is a two time Pushcart nominee, a four time Best of the Web nominee, and a Best of the Net nominee. He is currently working on his first full length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard. You can see his other work here and here. She is background noise the song you hate but know every word. His poem and fiction have appeared in more than publications across the globe.

And now she lies hugging the bosom of her lover through all eternity. Rad lives in New York City. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications. Now charity bags filled with possessions drawers emptied, a sob-wrecked separation. Leela Soma was born in Madras, India and now lives in Glasgow.

Her poems and short stories have been published in a number of anthologies and publications, including the National newspaper The Scotsman, and in Gutter magazine, New Voices, The Grind , and Visual Verse and upcoming in Steel Bellows. Her work reflects her dual heritage of India and Scotland. In response to your recent email thank you for the invitation. The point is, I am having an affair with a married man whose wife will not make love anymore, though I sometimes question his story.

Also he seems to exhibit signs of erectile dysfunction from time to time. Lucky for him, I am a good scout in such matters, or a witch, laying hands on dead body parts, making them rise again. Still, in the interest of decency, I advise you against trying to see me again, reminding you the Titanic sank during a party. To whom it may concern: I ask that you be punctual as my schedule is tight and tricky at best. I may have my issues, but I am not a sure thing. It was an interesting evening I must confess.

By the way, good luck with your wife and her sister. I hope last night was good for you; sadly, for me, it was not. Still, in the spirit of charity I wish you the best of luck asking you to please delete this message and my email address from your computer history.

And not to be unkind, but a thought worth mentioning here, you might want to see a specialist, a psychiatrist I think, for that anger management problem you displayed last night on my face. She is currently working on a collection of poems entitled Snakes in Trees from her home in Texas.

Books by Kerry Gleason

I purse my lips and swallow hard, filling my belly with orphan kisses that cry for you. They flutter from breast to thighs under the guise of pot roast and lemon meringue pie. And I dream that I would wear you like an apron while serving dessert to our husbands. We are not cozy, intimate or comfortable. This is table talk. The spring air is mixed with the smell of egg foo yong; the decorations of Chinese lanterns and calendars seem too happy for the occasion. He left that day looking bitter and sullen. I, settled and resolute.

The slip from my fortune cookie: Your happiness is intertwined with your outlook on life. Bonaventure University where she studied Victorian poetry and prose. She is the director of the Twin Tiers Writers Workshop, a group in western New York that meets weekly to turn prompts into prose and has been published in Mom Egg Review. On the way she and I drank beer even though I was six. How could anyone explain?

Texas, my floor faced a mirror propped against a wall. I lay where they stood to inspect themselves before departure. We sat on the floor. She wore a bow. I gave her to the nurse. She lives in Alabama with her husband and three cats. He bends to clip a potted miniature red rose. He remembers when he had a real garden bursting with roses, five glorious bushes of hybrid teas— deep red, purple-pink, sunset red, baby pink and something else— perhaps creamy—in the backyard of his home in DC.

Not this puny three by six excuse-for-a-garden in Nowhere Virginia. Was it just seven years ago? Leaning hard on his cane, Leon rights himself grabs the door jamb, thrusts his body inside, with this offering for his wife of 76 years, He crab-walks the dozen feet to the kitchen, gives the rose to his wife. Her blue eyes shining like the Hope Diamond. She peers at the date on the skim milk carton, wrinkling her brow to get her trifocals in the right position.

To the side of the table on top of the New York Times , brochures for assisted living their oldest daughter silently dropped off with the paper. They intrude, rip the music of their life like a 9. How dare she , Leon thinks. She cajoled them out of their house into this drab cinder-beige condo. Sylvia maneuvers herself to the table, lands on the chair with a soft plop. Every Sunday, they do the New York Times crossword together—the hardest of the week—testament to their mental soundness.

Sylvia squints at the puzzle. Is that 6 or 8 down? Even a small truth can be deadly. Wolf studied language development in graduate school, and was fascinated by this unique human ability. She found poetry had a special capability to express her innermost feelings. By losing her physical voice, Catherine found her poetic voice. She always enjoyed dancing, and now dances with her eyes. Now Catherine uses assistive technology to communicate, and raises her right eyebrow to type. She is studying poetry at the writerstudio.

Sky still offered a breakfast of sun and milky clouds. Water still bathed the earth to new hues of green and gray. Earth still held me upright though I wanted, in my blindness, to fall upon her. And the birds, the birds continued chanting praise for the day. You want to take your finger, dip it in your cold drink then trace the line around that dress. You want me to shiver like someone pulled from an icy lake while you touch me like that. You want to watch my nipples stiffen. I know you do. I want to sip White Zin until poetry pours through us and you drink me in. Her third marriage and her mother died this week.

Her husband grabbed her for their last waltz, spun her around until the bruises around her eyes and on her arms matched the color of his heart. She has also co-written two novels with Maryanne Burkhard under the name B. His pamphlet Bodies , was published in through Indigo Dreams and his next pamphlet Cry Baby will be published in See more by Gareth here. Dog-eared, laggy, prone to crash, we are so yesterday, yet also, I hope, so tomorrow.

Every day demands its pound of flesh: Devon Balwit is a poet and educator from Portland, Oregon. Her poetry has found many homes, among them: He lives in the central Vermont area. And when it wears off, nothing is left but the bitter, bitter dregs. Until then, it is not illusion; instead it dwells in the land of the hyperreal. The dyed orange daisies delineate sharply from the air. She was also an accomplished seamstress and knitter, and showered her family with the fruits of her labors. She always had a smile and a joke, right up to the end.

She epitomized the "Glass Half Full" and has imparted that attitude on all she encountered. Her family extends its undying gratitude to the Schooner Estate Residential Care staff, who for the past 7 years, have filled Marian's days with love, laughter and amazing personal care. She was predeceased by her husband, Philip Nichols Bower, in and by her grandson, Darren Nyberg, in Family and friends are invited to pay their respects from 3 - 5. A memorial service will immediately follow, from 5 - 6. Interment at Mount Auburn Cemetery will occur later this spring when the grass is green and the flowers are up.

Services will be held privately in the spring. Norton, 48, of State St. Kathy was an avid swimmer and had accumulated many swimming medals. She was also a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. Andrews Catholic Church in Augusta. He was married to Irene B. Webster on January 7, who he is survived by. He worked in the construction business all his life traveling throughout the United States. After retirement he enjoyed fishing at the Forks with his wife, golfing and woodworking. He was pre-deceased by brothers Kenneth and Philip.

Kierstead was born in Freeport on April 10, the daughter of Carrol. She was a shoe worker all her life, retiring from Eastland Shoe in In Freeport Rescue opened to ladies, she was the first female to join and served for 22 years as a member of the rescue and company where she served as vice president. She Started the Viel of Life which is a medical history of patients. She worked for Freeport, Pownal and Durham before retiring from rescue in She received 3 plaques for; life member, chiefs, and memorial, which she was proud of. In she gave Chuck Arthur a little push, so that Freeport got the first charter little league soft ball for the State of Maine.

She bowled for a number of years. She also worked as a waitress for a number o. She was also caregiver to two families in this area. She worked with special Olympics for six years, she received a plaque from Olympic Headquarters for her years of service. Family and friends are invited to visit from 11 to noon on Wednesday the 4th with service commencing at noon at the Freeport Fire Department on Main St.

Burial will take place in the spring. Judith worked for many years as a hairdresser in the Augusta area, co-owning Mirror Images in Augusta. After retirement she continued to work part time as a traveling hairdresser at many local nursing homes.

She also worked part time at L. Judith enjoyed spending time with her grandchildren, traveling and shopping. Judith was predeceased by her parents and a son Jody Mahon. A funeral service will take place on Thursday, March 5th at the Church at 11am. Burial will take place in the spring in Dixmont. Scarborough-Donald Phillip Looby, 80, passed away peacefully on Wednesday, February 11, at his home after a long illness. He was born November 29, in Malone, New York, the son o.

Harold and Gladys Looby. He graduated from high school in Rutland, Vermont and then served in the U. He was employed by the Maine Central Railroad as V. He enjoyed traveling with his wife Carolyn during his retirement years and also enjoyed the company of his grandchildren. Services will be held privately this summer in Churubusco, New York were Mr. Looby's Irish Ancestors are buried in the graveyard that was donated to the village of Churubusco by his great grandfather William and where Donald spent many happy summers at his grandmother's and grandfather'.

If so desired, donations may be made to: The son of Richard E. He attended schools in Northborough, Mass. He was a resident of Lewiston, Maine for over 21 years. He passed into eternal life after a courageous battle with cancer on February 13, He loved sports, camping and the ocean. He traveled extensively in the U. He formed fast friendships thanks to his charm, wit, generosity of spirit, and ability to connect to others in very human terms.

He faced the illness that ravaged his body with dignity, great heart, and even humor. He was deeply loved and will be missed by Mary, his wife of 22 years, and by the children of whom he was so proud. He also leaves, a sister, two brothers, a large extended family, and the many friends he made wherever he went. Family and friends are invited to attend visiting hours on Thursday, February 19th from 4 to 8pm at Funeral Alternatives Group 25 Tampa St.

Mary Ann married William H. She moved to Maine 4 years ago to be with her daughters, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. She enjoyed walking, cooking, visits to the ocean and picking up seashells, and especially spending time with her family. She was predeceased by her beloved husband William. Arthur Alexander Windecker, Jr. By he had passed all of the actuarial exams and had become a Fellow of the Society of Actuaries. He served a year in Washington and a year in Hawaii.

He retired from the Equitable in and worked part time for the next several years doing actuarial consulting for a consortium of European insurance companies. He was widowed a second time in He also served as Clerk of Session for several years. In Auburn, he was a member of the United Methodist Church. In his middle years and well into retirement, Arthur enjoyed skiing with his family, playing bridge, traveling with Beatrice, and vacationing at the family summer cottage on Lake Pocasset in Wayne.

He was a devoted husband and had a strong sense of the duty of supporting his wife and family. Arthur is predeceased by his two wives, his brother Walter Windecker, and his two sisters, Florence Windecker Stevenson and Marion Windecker. He is survived by his two sons, his daughter-in-law, Patricia Windecker, his two granddaughters, Karin Windecker and Laura Windecker, and many nephews and nieces and their children. He is also survived by his two stepdaughters, Beverly Leyden of Hebron and Arolyn Lake of North Bridgeton, and their children and grandchildren.

A memorial service for Arthur will be held at Clover Health Care at 3: Interment will be later in the spring at Mt. Auburn Cemetery where Beatrice is also buried. Box , Winthrop, Maine, www. George was an avid ham radio operator from the age of 13 when he received his first call sign, K1MON.

In later years, after relocating to Maine, he changed his call sign to W1ME. George was particularly interested in amateur satellite operation and contacts with astronauts aboard Mir and the ISS. In Feb , he set up his radio station at the Rockland, ME high school as part of a PenBay radio club activity and contacted the International Space Station, allowing high school students to communicate with the astronauts aboard.

It was one of the highlights of his amateur radio involvement. He served in the U. Army from with 27 months being served in Viet Nam. He was employed by Verizon, originally New England Telephone, for 31 years as a central office technician. George was also a private pilot for many years and a former member of the Baldeagles Flying Club in Portland. George is survived by his wife of 39 years, Caroline P. Donations in George's Memory may be made to: She was surrounded by her loving family. She was born in Greenbush on January 28th, the daughter of Charles Sr.

Esther worked for many years in the shoe factories and in the yarn industry. She enjoyed knitting for her friends and family. She also enjoyed reading and spending time with her family and friends. She was predeceased by her beloved husband William H. Stone, 12, of David St. She was born on May Ash was a 7th grader at the Sugg Middle School where she was very active in many clubs and organizations; a Jr. Ash enjoyed being with family, sleep-overs, her computer, texting, bible camps, movies and just doing girl stuff.

Ashlee was vibrant, thoughtful and full of life. She loved people, her siblings, was her mothers best friend and touched everyone she met. Lisbon, with a funeral service commencing at 1pm at the Church. Lisbon, Me to help defray the funeral costs. His family lived in Danforth until when they moved to Freeport.

He worked in the woods, a textile mill in Lisbon Falls and Eastland Shoe. He worked for the Maine Department of Transportation until he retired in He and his wife Lydia enjoyed spending time with family, day trips, eating out and camping. Family, children and pets meant a lot to him. He is survived by Lydia his wife of 33 years, his daughter Teri C. There will be no funeral services. Arrangements by Funeral Alternatives Group, Yarmouth.

She is survived by her son Lee Turner; sister Lillian Hill; caretaker Mary Chamberlain; many grandchildren and great grandchildren. She was predeceased by William J. There will not be any services at this time. Auburn — Omer J. Pomerleau, 65, of Conell Street, Auburn passed away peacefully on January 11, at Hospice House after a courageous battle with cancer. Omer married Sharon Hutchinson on Oct. Omer served our county in the Navy and was in Europe during his extended tour. He was dedicated to his work as the plant manager at Bottoms USA for 23 years.

He enjoyed woodworking and spending time with family and friends. Omer was a member of the American Legion. Family and friends may call 11am until the time of service on Thursday, January 15, at The First Assembly of God, 70 Hogan Road, Lewiston where a memorial service will begin at noon with the Rev. Donald Cougle officiating Interment will be in the spring. He was born Feb. He left school early in life to help support the family by working in the woods with his stepfather.

He later worked at a saw mill in North Anson and drove a pulp truck, before going to work for Saunder Brothers in Westbrook, where he eventually retired. Frank married Florence Tibbetts March 14, , and they spent many happy years together. He enjoyed hunting, fishing, tinkering in his shed and going dancing with Florence. He always looked forward to the local fairs, especially the Farmington Fair and visiting family and friends in the North New Portland area. The family would like to thank the staff at Coastal Manor in Yarmouth for the wonderful care and attention they gave Frank while he was there.

Thank you also to the best neighbors anyone could ask for: Mary and Newton Towle, who helped Frank and Florence by mowing their lawn, plowing their driveway and many other acts of kindness too numerous to list. Lewiston — Jeanne Kay Fortin, 59, passed away on January 10, at a local hospital with her loving husband at her side. Jeanne married Michael Fortin on October 19, They enjoyed many activities together including fishing and target shooting.

She was a member of East Auburn Baptist Church. Jeanne was a friendly, kind woman who delighted in her herb and vegetable gardens, costal Maine, and seafood. Jeanne will be sadly missed by her extended family and friends. Lewiston — Gloria R. She was employed at Hannaford for 34 years as a cashier, retiring in June Gloria loved life and enjoyed spending time with her family and friends. Her favorite things to do were going to the ocean at Harpswell and Bailey Island, and her senior bus trips to see plays and special attractions.

She was a generous and caring person, always lending a helping hand. She will be sadly missed by her family and friends, and by her loving cat, Rascal. She was predeceased by her parents, husband Alden S. Palmer II, and sister Carolyn Banks. They were married in Prudy spent more than 20 years as a nurse on the pediatric ward at mercy Hospital, most often working the shift. She was adored by both patients and their families for her kindness and encouraging bedside manner. During her retirement years, Prudy devoted much time and energy to the charitable works of the Portland Emblem Club.

Prudy was predeceased by her parents and siblings. Funeral services will be private. Falmouth, Maine-Stanley "Jack" Gifford, 83, died peacefully in his sleep on Friday, December 19, after a happy and full life. A family remembrance is planned for the spring. Marilyn 'Dee' Gould July 13, Dec. A true friend and mother to everyone who passed through her door, Dee will always be remembered as a woman who opened her heart and her home to all who knew her. While attending the University of Pennsylvania and earning her bachelor's degree in education, she met Charles S.

Gould, a young, dashing merchant mariner on a blind date arranged by her Alpha Chi Omega sorority sister. Dee taught kindergarten and Charlie worked towards his master's degree at Rutgers University. In , Charlie, a sales representative at Dupont Chemical, was transferred to Maine and they settled there after a brief stint in Texas. In , they moved to their home in South Freeport and raised their four children. Dee was a member of The South Freeport Congregational Church where she was a long time choir member she had a voice like an angel , organist and junior choir director.

A member of the Harraseeket Yacht Club, Dee was also politically active in town and county politics and was an accomplished piano player who even taught lessons for a few years. Later in , she transferred to Maine Medical Center where, in addition to her duties in the psychiatric unit, she did consultations in the ER and burn units. Dee's experiences made her a firm advocate of family participation. She once said, 'I'm a great believer in family involvement. People don't live in a vacuum, they live in a system with others.

Mental illness represents great challenges, but with understanding comes acceptance. After her retirement in , she turned her attention and efforts to her family and friends, keeping up a long-standing Gould family tradition called 'Augustfest,' a family reunion held in their home for the past 30 years or so. Augustfest was an event which Dee planned and executed in her typical way-with tons of love and even more important perhaps, her 'meticulous' lists of everything from guests to menus to sleeping arrangements. No matter whether 10 people attended or , Dee was ready for anything.

Dee is survived by her husband of 62 years, Charles S. Gould; her children, Charles M. Gould of Portland, Barbara L. Gould of Lincolnville, Matthew R. Gould of Falmouth, Mass. Gould of Natick, Mass. In lieu of flowers, contributions can be made to hospice or another charity of your choice Marilyn 'Dee' Gould. She lived a deliberately peaceful, quiet and love-filled life; one that she said began when she met her husband, John.

Monty, 61, of Main St. Lewiston passed away unexpectedly Sunday, December 14, at St. Gordon, on September 7, , in Dixfield. Most of her life was dedicated to her family, and she also worked for many years at Lost Valley Ski Area in the Rental Shop. Prior to that she served as a Sunday School teacher and assisted for several years in the neighborhood mother's club.

A member of the Community Little Theater, she appeared in the chorus of many musicals and had small roles in several other productions. She was a charter member of the Mollyockett Chapter of Sweet Adelines. Stephanie and Hannah were also special to her. The family will receive friends and family from A memorial service will begin at 12 noon in the sanctuary followed by a reception in the Trafton Room.

Marilyn enjoyed puzzles, computer games, plastic canvas, spending time with her grandchildren, and was a wonderful homemaker. She is survived by her beloved husband Lew; children Dennis, Jeff, Marshall and their wives; brother Stewart; several grandchildren and great grandchildren. Donald Cougle will be officiating. Burial will be held at a later date. Arrangements are under the care of Funeral Alternatives Group, Lewiston. She enjoyed writing poems and reading reciting them to anyone that would listen. She also enjoyed singing to young children.

Burial will follow after the service at Gracelawn Memorial Park.

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Erskine, 70, of West Elm St. Her parents predeceased her. Drake, 83, of Cameron Dr. He enjoyed old movies, listening and playing bluegrass. He also loved spending time with his family. Hobart, 50, of Village St. Wayne enjoyed swimming, fishing and mowing the lawn. He worked for many years in the auto industry as a salesman, starting at Jolly Johns and most recently with Quirks Auto in Westbrook.

Navy during World War II. He received his B. In he married Gloria Sileo in Brooklyn, N. He was an architectural sales representative for Otis Elevator for many years. He also served a term on the local school board. When he relocated to Brunswick in , he resumed his community activity by serving first on the Brunswick Conservation Board and then on the Planning Board.

He was also active at the 55 Plus Center, now People Plus.

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He was an avid birdwatcher and hobby printer on a turn-of-the-century letterpress. Funeral services are by Funeral Alternatives in Yarmouth. The family will hold a memorial service, date to be announced. Yarmouth-Clayton Boylston Barter passed away on November 25, Clayton was born on November 13, to Fred N.

Barter and Myrtis M. Libby, the third of four sons. Clayton started school at age four and attended one room schools until beginning high school at North Yarmouth Academy. He walked to and from high school every day unless he managed to hitch a ride. He dropped out after completing his second year to get a job to help his family, as was common during the depression. He prided himself on being a strong and able worker. He was a lifelong Democrat and always urged his family to vote. Community service was very important to him.

He ran Beano one Saturday each month to raise funds for the fire and rescue. He at one time served on the planning board and budget committee for the Town of North Yarmouth. He has been a mechanic, a truck driver, carpenter, road commissioner and was sexton of the Walnut Hill Cemetery for more than thirty years. He had many good friends over the years who would stop in for a game of cribbage or to pitch a quick game of horseshoes.

Until May of this year, he and his friends still got together weekly for card night. He is also survived by his stepson Woody Brown of Windsor, Illinois, stepdaughter Penny Megquier of Gray, daughter Polly Grindle of North Yarmouth, son Fred Barter of North Yarmouth, along with their spouses and partners, and several grandchildren, great grandchildren and some who were like grandchildren. He was predeceased by his youngest daughter Becky Grass of North Yarmouth in and his grandson Sam Megquier in He was the Patriarch of the family, all of us called him Pa, some called him Par.

He was always there instantly when any of us needed anything. We all miss you and will love you forever Pa. Rivers, 82, of Porter Street, Augusta, died unexpectedly on Nov. She was born in Hermon on Oct. Rivers and his wife, Lisa, of Augusta; a brother, Roger Cronk, of Milford; a sister, Paulette Ugro, of Milford; five grandchildren and several nieces and nephews.

A memorial service will take place at 10 a. West Gardiner - Alfred Smith, 77, o. West Gardiner passed away at his home on the Benson Road on November 26th , surrounded by his family. He was born March 3, in Monroe, ME. One of 13 children born to Clyde and Evelyn Johnson Smith. He was 7 years old when he went to live with his grandparents Byron and Clara Johnson on their dairy farm. He traveled around the world twice on the destroyer U. Weeks DD and other military ships. After leaving the Navy, Al owned and operated a restaurant and garage on Islesboro. After retirement, Al enjoyed working on anything mechanical, especially old Simplicity tractors, and was often called upon to repair lawn mowers in the neighborhood.

Al took pride in maintaining his trout pond and feeding the birds. He left knowing his love of camp will be carried on by these special people. Every morning at 5: He always had a story to tell entertaining both young and old. His brothers Lawrence and wife Janie, Byron and wife Pat. As well as many brothers and sisters in law. The family wishes to thank the staff at Togus Veterans Hospital, Beacon Hospice, and the many friends and family for their love, support, thoughts, and prayers. A gathering in celebration of his life will be held on Sunday, December 7th, from 1: Gardner, 75, of Farmington, N.

He was born in to the Rev. Air Force during the Korean Conflict. An avid outdoorsman and skier, he began a ski industry career at Cannon Mountain N. In the late 50s, he moved to Bethel and helped build Sunday River Skiway. Throughout the early s, he owned and operated several ski schools throughout Maine and New Hampshire and worked his way into ski area management.

In the s, he moved his family to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, where his expertise in snowmaking was instrumental in building and developing three ski areas. He served as president of the National Ski Area Association in the s. His lifelong interests included fly fishing, hunting, skiing, canoeing and raising Belted Galloway cattle. Upon retirement from ski area management in , he moved back to Farmington and traveled the country as a snow-making consultant and "seeker of large trout.

He was born in Wallagrass, May 22, , the son of Albert J. He was a member of the Sacred Heart parish. He enjoyed hunting and fishing and being on the water. She was proprietor of her own ongoing Lawn Sale for many years, "Nellie's Place". Nellie was the widow of Anthony Casoria and was predeceased by all of her siblings and first husband Ola Maxim. She is also survived by many, nieces, nephews and cousins. The family wishes to extend a heartfelt thank you to the staff at Graybirch where Nellie had resided since June She made many friends who were a great source of care, comfort and support.

Mylen, by his side. Charles "Mike" Yandell died peacefully surrounded by his family at Falmouth by the Sea on November 7. He suffered from an extremely debilitating disease for the past 10 years, but always kept a positive outlook and a gracious disposition. Mike was known in Portland as a visionary and a community leader. He was held in high regard and loved by many for his leadership in the arts, social services and business communities. He was especially passionate about his family, the theater and the city of Portland.

He will be remembered for his generous spirit, his enduring sense of humor, his love for his family, and his commitment to his community. Mike will be greatly missed by many, most especially his wife of 43 years Sue, his daughters Samara and Jessica, son in law Jason, his grandchildren Seth, Georgia and Brennan, and his extended family in England.

The Yandell family would like to thank the staff of Foreside Harbor for the amazing care and love shown to Mike during his residency there. An acknowledgement of his life will be held at the St. Please bring any brief written anecdotes that you would like to share. Nearly two years ago, Phil was told that he had six months to live. Instead, his positive attitude kept him going much longer. When asked how he was doing, he always replied, 'getting better every day.

Phil was born in Pawtucket, R. Phil did his undergraduate work at Clark University. He later received an M. Early in his career, Phil worked for the U. Government Accounting Office in Washington, D. He then moved to Maine where he had a year career as an accounting professor at the University of Southern Maine. In , Phil was inducted into the American Accounting Association Northeast Region Hall of Fame for his outstanding service as an accounting academic. That same year, Phil published his first and only Cost Accounting textbook, which is still used in some college classrooms around the world.

Phil liked to point out that more than 4, students had taken one or more of his accounting classes. He also was very proud of the many students that he counseled regarding accounting as a career choice. In , Phil married Ruth Press. Phil and Ruth had two sons, Bruce and Alan. Phil and Ruth later divorced. In , he married Joan Robbins Bush. He is also survived by his brothers Ken, of Wickenburg, Ariz. Phil loved being outdoors.

He taught canoeing and sailing at summer camps, loved whitewater rafting, and three times rode the rapids of the Colorado River, through the Grand Canyon. In later years, Phil relished the time spent with family at the family cottage on Pleasant Lake, in Casco. A celebration of Phil's life is being held Saturday, Nov. A reception will follow.

In lieu of flowers, donations in his memory may be made to: Box Portland, Maine Carter, 84, of Patterson St. Bea was predeceased by her parents, son Vincent Hill Jr. In two weeks she would have been 96 years of age on her way to her goal of Grace was predeceased by her husband Joe Plourde in July She is survived by numerous family members throughout the country.

Grace was survived by several nieces and nephews. A memorial service will be held on Saturday, November 15th at 11am at Funeral Alternatives. Burial will take place at a later date in Cutler. Neilson, 55, of Dixfield, passed away Thursday, Oct. He left us in the comfort of his companion's home, surrounded by his loved ones. He was a loyal, lifelong member of the Mexico Exiles M. He enjoyed riding his Harley, living as a self-employed carpenter, spending time at Exiles functions, and landscaping. He especially enjoyed spending time with his family and adored his grandson, Alexander James Haynes A.

Survivors include his companion, Linda A. Many thanks to the Mexico Exiles M. Sally was a member of the Windsor Historical Society. She enjoyed Shopping, cooking, flowers, socializing, and particularly being with her family. Through the years she worked for Augusta Supply Co. Sally was predeceased by her parents and half step-sister Linda.

Grady was a wonderful husband, father, grandfather, and friend to many. He was an avid outdoorsman who loved the state of Maine. He enjoyed ice fishing, and especially trips to his camp in Springfield, Maine with family and friends. Grady was an excellent craftsman.

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