Cornelia “Sally” Ayala (née Leith, a.k.a. Gaubeca), 91, passed quietly away at her Dallas home in the loving care of family and friends on July 24, 2016. She had a sweet, tender voice that belied the fierceness and resolve of her character. She was always seeking to understand our world and thrived in the study of geography, languages, and nature. She was born in Boston, on October 23, 1924, to Elizabeth H. Benedict and Cecil E. Leith. Her grandparents, now deceased, Dr. Francis G. Benedict and Cornelia Golay, were very involved in her upbringing. As a child, when hired by the artist King Coffin to wash his paintbrushes, she discovered a love for painting. The smell of the fresh strokes on the canvas and the sound of the bristles outlining forms were hymns to the nature she tried to capture.
A lifelong teacher, she knew how to measure each one of her pupils with loving kindness. She was equally comfortable in the silence of a library as in the bustling throng of the Mexico City subway system. Her family and friends often found her in interesting places, like galavanting up and down Mesoamerican archeological sites, carefully documenting discoveries, or taking samples of water and soil from various lakes in México as data for her Geography thesis project. On entering her closet one would be surprised by the weight of her shoe boxes, which instead of expected footwear, hid samples of all types of pebbles, stones and rocks, some meteors, others with incrusted gems.
After marrying Jess B Gaubeca in 1942 in Machiasport, Maine, they traveled extensively, living for several years in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, where she bore her first two children, Lisa Harriot and Michael Jess. They then moved to Linz, Austria, there giving birth to her third child, Juan Valentin. Soon after they moved to Thionville, France to aid in post WWII reconstruction efforts. In 1957, they relocated to Mexico City just in time to experience the large earthquake which is remembered as the one that felled the monument of The Angel.
Later, she experienced a different type of earth moving event when she gave birth to her twins, Susan and Vicki. While living in Mexico City, she became a teacher and a principal at the Hamilton School, now known as The Eton. She also worked with the Guías de México (Girl Scouts) acting as President of the 2 North District Girl Scouts and having the wonderful experience of meeting Lady Baden Powell. Jess’ job made them move again, this time to Monterrey, Mexico, where she continued to teach at the American School Foundation. In 1972, they returned to Mexico City and Sally decided it was time to continue her studies therefore obtaining two Masters, one in Bilingual Education and the other in Geography; the latter at the Universidad Autonoma de Mexico (UNAM). At the she same time she continued teaching, again at the Hamilton School. As a member of Alpha Delta Kappa, an international honorary organization for women educators, she acted as President of the Gamma chapter from 1976 to 1978.
After Jess died in 1978, she met her future husband Juan Antonio Ayala. They moved to Bergerac, France, to take care of her mother, Elizabeth Hanggi, until her passing in 1989. Seeking to live next to the sea, the place she loved the most, they moved to Bayonne, France. However, in 1990, missing her children and grandchildren, they returned to the U.S., deciding to get married and to live in Rio Rico, Arizona. She volunteered her time nearby, in Nogales, teaching English as a Second Language at the Public Library and as a docent at the Hilltop Gallery. In the following years, she lived in Tucson, Arizona, Las Cruces, New Mexico and, finally, Dallas, Texas. Sadly,in 2008, Juan Antonio passed away in Burgos, Spain.
She is survived by her five children: Lisa H. Patella and her fiancé Phil Frisella; Michael Jess Gaubeca and his wife Barbara; Juan Valentin Gaubeca and his wife Margarita; Susan Arzac and her husband, Jorge Arzac, M.D.; and Vicki Gaubeca. She will be remembered dearly by her grandchildren, Marni “Tigger” Atherton, Andrew Patella, Paula Baird (a.k.a. Arzac, just recently happily married on July 22nd) and her husband David, Val Gaubeca, and Jorge Arzac jr. She is also survived by her brother, Cecil E. Leith, jr. and his wife, Mary, and her half brother, John W. Kimball and his wife Margaret. Also, remembering her with love are her niece Ann Katsoyannos, her husband, Takis, and her son Jason; her half nephew Chris Kimball, his wife Liz and their children, Glenn and Rachel; and, her half nephew, Nick Kimball, his wife, Lynn, and their children, Greg and his husband Michael, and the twins, Jeff and Eric. She is also survived by her nieces, Maricruz Garcia-Rejon and sons Pablo and Santiago; Lucy Espinosa Gaubeca, her husband Jorge Espinosa and children Georgina, Jorge Andres, and Rebecca; and, nephew, Valentin Gaubeca, Jr., his wife Eliana and daughter, Ana.
A seaside ceremony surrounded with close friends and family will be held in a area dear to her. She would love it if you helped someone in need, donated time and/or money to your local Art Institutions or to a no-kill animal shelter, plant a tree or two, and live life surrounded as she did, with joy, love, and friendships.
Tributes
Leave a tributeAll my love to my cousins Lisa, Mike, Val, Vicki, Susi and their great families.
Lucy Gaubeca
The first time I met Sally happened shortly after I’d emigrated from Connecticut to Rio Rico. I’d become a bit lonely after settling in, and I printed up a flyer to invite neighbors to my home for a potluck supper.
I then took a very long hike to distrubute the flyers to about 30 or so homes in this sparsely populated town. Mostly, I just laid the flyers on porches underneath a good-sized rock.to then sort of slink away.
But when I reached Sally’s house, I heard a Mozart concerto blasting out from its open windows. I remember thinking that someone who’s also a fan of my favorite composer is someone I’d really like to meet. And so, I decided to open her front gate to knock at her door.
As I did, a very large, fiercely tail-wagging German Shepherd came tearing around from a corner of her house to put its paws up on the gate. I backed off, while managing, miraculously, to attach the flyer to Sally’s gate.
The potluck supper was a success, especially because the first guest to appear was Sally. She came in, grasped my hand, to say, “So sorry that Max scared you off the other day.”
And so, that was the beginning of a deep friendship that lasted almost two decades.
My memories include those sunny mornings when I’d stop by Sally’s house for a cup of coffee, when we’d talk about nearly everything under the sun.
What I soon discovered was a wonderful, compassionate, and idealistic woman.
But Sally, maybe because she had 13 years on me, also became my mentor.
She told me that the best way to live in Rio Rico was to brush up on my high school Spanish. Which she emphasized by speaking to me during some of those morning visits only in her flawless Spanish. She also approved of my feeble attempts to help migrants who kept appearing in the valley below our homes: “We’re all migrants here, aren't we?”
Indeed we are, Sally, and I will forever be grateful for your reminding me of this.
To me, it’s likely that Sally Ayala will remain as the most loving, cosmopolitan, most open-minded woman I have ever met.
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As Isabel, my sister, says in her tribute, it was only a few days ago, when our mother (Juan Antonio's Sister) suddenly thought about Sally and asked herself what would be about her. Thanks to that fact, we have contacted this page.
For sure it was Sally's energy an her soul who was telling us "Hey! I'm here!!"
So, we send to all of you, Sally's family and all her friends, our best wishes an our condolences.
Remember that you will always have a small family in Spain, who enjoyed and will enjoy forever the memory of so many sweets and charming moments that we shared with Sally and Juan Antonio.
Tenderly and attentively loving you
I could always imagine what you gave as a mother
Leave a Tribute
Eulogy - A Poem of Farewall
O nobly born Sally, our friend, our mother, our comfort.
Hear that we are all here in spirit, in mind, and in heart.
Know that we love you dearly.
Know that we all share those precious few moments of life, of love, of happiness, and of measured tribulation.
We are here to feel you close again, and to know you as forever. Those moments we shared are also moments we discovered together.
This, then, is the moment of truth. That liberation arrives for once and for once arrives for all.
Go forward in strength and remember that there is no need for fear.
Remember that we are with you as always, and as always we are with you become.
Poem Written by Mom in 1941
Mom's high school published writings of its students in Chimes. In it, we found a few short stories and the poem written below. We will be reading it at her service tomorrow.
FIELDS IN MARCH
Cornelia Leith, '41
Rows of dead cornstalks, broken and bent.
Go marching like soldiers through the mud.
Through the mud. past long-forgotten snow.
Into the mist they go, to hide their broken shame.
Long, brown corn fields stretch to the horizon.
Wet and sodden, cold and bleak.
Yet under the mud, the ice and the snow.
Lies the seed of new grasses, and the green of a new spring.
Jack's Remembrance
"Sally’s passing saddens me more than I can ever express. But it also brings back so many wonderful memories. The first time I met Sally happened shortly after I’d emigrated from Connecticut to Rio Rico. I’d become a bit lonely after settling in, and I printed up a flyer to invite neighbors to my home for a potluck supper. I then took a very long hike to distribute the flyers to about 30 or so homes in this sparsely populated town. Mostly, I just laid the flyers on porches underneath a good-sized rock.to then sort of slink away. But when I reached Sally’s house, I heard a Mozart concerto blasting out from its open windows. I remember thinking that someone who’s also a fan of my favorite composer is someone I’d really like to meet. And so, I decided to open her front gate to knock at her door. As I did, a very large, fiercely tail-wagging German Shepherd came tearing around from a corner of her house to put its paws up on the gate. I backed off, while managing, miraculously, to attach the flyer to Sally’s gate. The potluck supper was a success, especially because the first guest to appear was Sally. She came in, grasped my hand, to say, “So sorry that my silly Max scared you off the other day.” And so, that was the beginning of a deep friendship that lasted almost two decades. My memories include those sunny mornings when I’d stop by Sally’s house for an early morning cup of coffee, when we’d talk about nearly everything under the sun. What I soon discovered was a wonderful, compassionte, and idealistic woman. But Sally, maybe because she had 13 years on me, also became my mentor. She told me that the best way to live in Rio Rico was to brush up on my high school Spanish. Which she emphasized by speaking to me during some of those morning visits only in her flawless Spanish. She also approved of my feeble attempts to help migrants who kept appearing in the Santa Cruz River valley below our homes: “We’re all migrants here, aren't we?” Indeed we are, Sally, and I will forever be grateful for your reminding me of this. To me, Sally Ayala will forever remain as the most loving ,cosmopolitan, most open-minded woman I have ever met."