Tributes
Leave a TributeI will see you one day - give Trish a hug for me!
Steve
We come here today to honor the life of our beloved Julia Anne Daugherty and to lay to rest her body, which we know was a mere shell that temporarily housed her spirit which remains with us forever.
Marcel Proust, one of Julie’s favorite authors, said that “love is space and time rendered perceptible by the heart.” If that is so, then the space occupied by Julie’s spirit is immeasurable, the timeline of her spirit’s existence is eternal.
Death, be not proud
BY JOHN DONNE
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
As for the family and friends she leaves behind (for now), our hearts and minds are forever made better, richer, by the kindness, humor, intelligence, curiosity, compassion and generosity with which she lived her brief, earthly life. While we will forever miss her physical presence in our lives...her enthusiastic reviews about her latest reading, the long phone conversations that punctuated otherwise dull days, the hilarious comments, the hours and energy she dedicated to important causes, the exuberant support and pride that she espoused for every effort of those she loved...we can also celebrate our treasured memories and attempt to honor those memories by following her example in our own lives until we can join her in a more peaceful place than the world we still occupy.
A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning
BY JOHN DONNE
As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say
The breath goes now, and some say, No:
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears,
Men reckon what it did, and meant;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary lovers' love
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.
But we by a love so much refined,
That our selves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to airy thinness beat.
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if the other do.
And though it in the center sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
Not long ago, Julie and I were talking (as she often did with all of her family and friends) about some of our favorite short stories. The following parable was one of our mutual favorites.
Three Questions
by Tolstoy
It once occurred to a certain king, that if he always knew the right time to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to listen to, and whom to avoid, and, above all, if he always knew what was the most important thing to do, he would never fail in anything he might undertake.
And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to any one who would teach him what was the right time for every action, and who were the most necessary people, and how he might know what was the most important thing to do.
And learned men came to the King, but they all answered his questions differently.
In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right time for every action, one must draw up in advance, a table of days, months and years, and must live strictly according to it. Only thus, said they, could everything be done at its proper time. Others declared that it was impossible to decide beforehand the right time for every action; but that, not letting oneself be absorbed in idle pastimes, one should always attend to all that was going on, and then do what was most needful. Others, again, said that however attentive the King might be to what was going on, it was impossible for one man to decide correctly the right time for every action, but that he should have a Council of wise men, who would help him to fix the proper time for everything.
But then again others said there were some things which could not wait to be laid before a Council, but about which one had at once to decide whether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide that one must know beforehand what was going to happen. It is only magicians who know that; and, therefore in order to know the right time for every action, one must consult magicians.
Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said, the people the King most needed were his councillors; others, the priests; others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the most necessary.
To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation: some replied that the most important thing in the world was science. Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was religious worship.
All the answers being different, the King agreed with none of them, and gave the reward to none. But still wishing to find the right answers to his questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely renowned for his wisdom.
The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted and he received none but common folk. So the King put on simple clothes, and before reaching the hermit's cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving his bodyguard behind, went on alone.
When the King approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front of his hut. Seeing the King, he greeted him and went on digging. The hermit was frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into the ground and turned a little earth, he breathed heavily.
The King went up to him and said: 'I have come to you, wise hermit, to ask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the right thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and to whom should I, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? And, what affairs are the most important and need my first attention?'
The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. He just spat on his hand and recommenced digging.
'You are tired,' said the King, 'let me take the spade and work awhile for you.'
'Thanks!' said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the King, he sat down on the ground.
When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and repeated his questions. The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out his hand for the spade, and said:
'Now rest awhile -- and let me work a bit.'
But the King did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One hour passed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees, and the King at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said:
'I came to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can give me none, tell me so, and I will return home.'
'Here comes some one running,' said the hermit, 'let us see who it is.'
The King turned round, and saw a bearded man come running out of the wood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood was flowing from under them. When he reached the King, he fell fainting on the ground moaning feebly. The King and the hermit unfastened the man's clothing. There was a large wound in his stomach. The King washed it as best he could, and bandaged it with his handkerchief and with a towel the hermit had. But the blood would not stop flowing, and the King again and again removed the bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed and rebandaged the wound. When at last the blood ceased flowing, the man revived and asked for something to drink. The King brought fresh water and gave it to him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So the King, with the hermit's help, carried the wounded man into the hut and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed the man closed his eyes and was quiet; but the King was so tired with his walk and with the work he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, and also fell asleep -- so soundly that he slept all through the short summer night. When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could remember where he was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on the bed and gazing intently at him with shining eyes.
'Forgive me!' said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw that the King was awake and was looking at him.
'I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for,' said the King.
'You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who swore to revenge himself on you, because you executed his brother and seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and I resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you did not return. So I came out from my ambush to find you, and I came upon your bodyguard, and they recognized me, and wounded me. I escaped from them, but should have bled to death had you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you, and you have saved my life. Now, if I live, and if you wish it, I will serve you as your most faithful slave, and will bid my sons do the same. Forgive me!'
The King was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily, and to have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him, but said he would send his servants and his own physician to attend him, and promised to restore his property.
Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King went out into the porch and looked around for the hermit. Before going away he wished once more to beg an answer to the questions he had put. The hermit was outside, on his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been dug the day before.
The King approached him, and said:
'For the last time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man.'
'You have already been answered!' said the hermit still crouching on his thin legs, and looking up at the King, who stood before him.
'How answered? What do you mean?' asked the King.
'Do you not see,' replied the hermit. 'If you had not pitied my weakness yesterday, and had not dug these beds for me, but had gone your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have repented of not having stayed with me. So the most important time was when you were digging the beds; and I was the most important man; and to do me good was your most important business. Afterwards, when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were attending to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he would have died without having made peace with you. So he was the most important man, and what you did for him was your most important business. Remember then: there is only one time that is important -- Now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when we have any power. The most necessary man is he with whom you are, for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings with any one else: and the most important affair is, to do him good, because for that purpose alone was man sent into this life!'
After we leave here today, Julie’s spirit will be well honored by our attempt at living the answers to those questions. Give Julie’s compassion and kindness, and especially her devotion and connection to animals...her own pets, and the many endangered species with which she was always concerned, it seems appropriate to offer the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, also known as
The Peace Prayer
Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.
O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.
And now.
In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, we commend to Spirit our sister Julia and we commit her body back to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May her spirit be blessed and may she have eternal peace.
(scatter the ashes)
And in the words of another of her favorite authors, Kurt Vonnegut, “So it goes.”
Still miss our conversations every day.
Love,
Lisa (aka LizzaPizza, aka Liesl, aka Chicken Legs, aka The Puke, aka Cloudhead and all the other names you had for me. :) )
Love,
Jayne-o
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I will see you one day - give Trish a hug for me!









Furry Friend
This weekend, I was doing a little de-cluttering and I ran across some music CDs Julia had made for me. She often did that. I particularly remember her copying a bunch of White Stripes CDs she had inherited from her nephew for me. I didn't have any cash for extras at the time and I love The White Stripes, so I was thrilled she'd thought of me.
But yesterday I found some music that is forever associated with Julia for me. A few CDs of Paul Rogers music, including a few CDs he did with Bad Company from back in our high school days.
Julia just loved his voice, and thought he was gorgeous. She did like shortish, dark, and kind of hairy men. She traveled a lot to hear him live in the 90s and 2000s, met him and got autographs. She always referred to him as her "furry friend," So now, I have uploaded them to my phone, so Julia and her furry friend can drive around with me.
I also recall she admired him for being a man who was clearly content with what he had.
I still miss Jules every day and have mental conversations with her about what's going on in the news. But I can never think of anything as good or original to say about it like she could.
I hope you get a chance to listen in.
Julie's Crocheting Talents
Julie was very talented at crocheting. She not only was a perfectionist at creating from the designs and patterns of others, but she also had a great eye for design and would often make up her own patterns, often intricate and difficult ones. She was an artist in the truest sense and had a high standard for her own creations. Attached is a photo of a beautiful afghan that she designed and crocheted, along with the counted cross stitch picture that my mom created from the pattern Julie designed. She loved both pieces greatly and was very proud of them but eventually auctioned them off to benefit one of the many causes that she supported.
Julie's Favorite Artwork
Julie loved art from the time she was a child, and we would spend hours playing a game called "Masterpiece" where you pretended to bid on various famous paintings without knowing their value. When she grew up and moved to Evanston, one of her favorite places in the world to spend an afternoon was the Chicago Art Insitute. Some of her favorites there were Monet's Haystacks, "The Golden Wall" by Hans Hoffman, "Sunday on the Isle of La Grande Jatte" by George Seurat, "Nighthawks" by Edward Hopper, and "The Bedroom" by Vincent Van Gogh.