Thursday, November 4, 2010


So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Rosalie Gwinn died. Why does death do this to us? Make us realize "i should have called her! i should have told her how she changed me. I should have appreciated him. I should have thanked him for everything." I'm not sure there are words enough to say how you changed me Miss Gwinn. You never accepted mediocrity from me. You gave it to me straight when I asked for advice. I think you and my husband are really the only two people who have ever had the courage to be "hard" on me to my face. I'll never forget the little Christmas gift you gave me and Liz. I kept the empty bottle of bath and body works evergreen hand sanitizer long after it ran out. The smell still makes me think of you. You made me memorize Thanatopsis. You introduced me to "hawk roosting" and that English poet that died in WWII- he wrote about the sounds of the gas bombs. You picked on me for my pronunciation during my impersonation of Jordan from Great Gatsby. You had us all memorize all the acts and scenes from Hamlet in case it came up on our IB oral. I ended up getting that Robert Frost poem- Mending Wall, and you had taught me very well. I aced it. You introduced us all to macbeth and the awful Madame Bovary. But more than books and poems. Your smile was one of the most amazing I've ever seen. Not just in your mouth or your eyes, but all over your face, throughout your whole body, down to your toes! You were never meek or softspoken. You had fire in your belly and that insatiable lust for life, but not just any life- a righteous one. One filled with educating (difficult) young adults and devoting yourself to your family. The world will miss you, Miss Gwinn. I will miss you. I'm sorry I didn't find you and have lunch with you and tell you that I'm forever changed because you knew me. That I will forever remember Thanatopsis and I will be always inspired by you and the way you lived this journey. It's but a few words. It's but a weak entry in a little read blog, but you live on through those whose lives you touched, and there are so many of us. Thanks for everything.... and sleep sweetly.


  1. post script: this entry is a first draft, Miss Gwinn. Please stop picking out the grammar errors. I hope that in heaven, they are not making you nuts. Put down the red pen, for goodness sake! ;)

  2. Oh Jessi, she sounds like she was a wonderful woman. What a blessing to have known her.