Paired to Perfection

It pains me to admit it, but apparently—I've passed away. Everyone told me it would happen, but that's not something I ever wanted to hear, much less experience. Once again, I didn't get my way. That's been the story of my life. I was born February 9, 1946, to Clyde and Mary Fisher in Hazelwood... read more

...and soon became the infamous middle child of the three Fisher girls. I walked to Hazelwood Elementary, where teachers like Mrs. McCracken planted the seed that led me to teaching. I started my career there in 1968 and later taught in Virginia, Georgia, and Florida—retiring after 25 years. Life was made of memories I didn't realize were treasures until much later: Mama in her apron, Daddy calling square dances, a sister pushing me off my tricycle, another sleepwalking out of the house. I was head majorette leading our band down King Street during Mardi Gras and even twirled baton in the Miss North Carolina Pageant. Naturally, to the tune of "Dixie." On December 16, 1967, I married the man of my dreams—Charlie Phillips—and we had exactly two kids: Bonnie and Scott. I owe them apologies for the No Frills jeans and kindergarten red-shirting, but they turned out wonderfully in spite of me. Becoming Nana—and later "Nana Banana"—to my five grand-angels was life's greatest joy. They stole my heart and all my money. But I hold the world record for "Hiney Getting," and that's a legacy I'm proud of. So I was born, I blinked, and it was over. No monuments, no buildings named after me—but I knew love, laughter, and family. If you want to find me, look for the daffodils, the butterflies, or maybe just the loudest laugh in the breeze. Please don't cry because I'm gone. Or… maybe cry a little. After all—I have passed away. And today, I'm happy. Probably dancing. Probably naked. Love you forever

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Eugenie Clark, the fearless marine biologist known as the "Shark Lady," passed away at 92. From childhood dreams in a New York aquarium to founding a marine lab, diving to incredible depths, and proving sharks aren't monsters, Genie lived a life that redefined ocean science. She founded read more

Florida's Mote Marine Laboratory in the 1950s, authored bestselling books, and even trained sharks to push buttons for food rewards. Her career shattered gender barriers and scientific myths alike. She discovered shark repellents, demonstrated that sharks can breathe while still, and made over 70 exploratory dives in submersibles—one as deep as 12,000 feet. One of her final dives? On her 92nd birthday. Despite a lifetime of up-close shark encounters, she was never bitten—except once, by a dead tiger shark whose jaw sliced her arm during a sudden car stop. Her bravery and brilliance turned fear into fascination and taught the world to see sharks not as villains, but as complex, beautiful creatures. Swim in peace, Genie. The ocean is quieter without you.

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Stanley A. Gardinski, 78, of Liverpool, NY, was born in Toowoomba, Australia and came to the U.S. at the age of 3. A natural athlete and beloved family man, Stanley earned the nickname “The Kangaroo” on his high school basketball team and later spent 39 years with Niagara Mohawk... read more

...where he worked in the Gas Planning department and served as a Union Steward. He graduated from Vocational High School in 1961, leading the All-Parochial League in scoring from 1959–1961 and earning a spot on the All City All Stars team as its top scorer. Stanley spent summers as a Camp Zerbe counselor and loved the outdoors. He retired from NiMo in 2005 with a legendary knowledge of gas systems and a reputation for dedication and heart. Predeceased by his parents, Stanley Sr. and Jean (Wright) Gardinski, he is survived by his wife of 40 years, Christine (Butler) Gardinski; his daughter, Gina Rojas; and his beloved granddaughter, Gianna. Cancun, MX held a special place in Stanley’s heart, where he cherished time on the beach with friends and family. He was an avid gardener, a devoted card player, and a loyal friend who never missed morning coffee with Mike and John. His last decade, spent adoring his granddaughter, was his happiest. Stanley was the kind of man who never met a stranger. Known for his generosity, warmth, and quick wit, he gave freely of his time, spirit, and even his last $20. His kindness left a mark on everyone he met and will be deeply missed.

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I was born in Salt Lake City, March 27, 1953. I died of throat cancer on July 10, 2012. I loved school, Salt Lake City, the mountains, and all things Utah. I was a scientist, inventor, comedian, cat lover, cynic—and above all, a husband who adored his Mary Jane. I had a lot of fun. I went to ...read more

six different grade schools, then Churchill, Skyline, and the U of U. I was passionate about electronics, chemistry, physics, auto mechanics, woodworking, business, and bad jokes. I traveled everywhere I wanted, worked every job I dreamed of, fixed what I wanted, and ate everything I craved. Mary Jane, my wife, was the love of my life. Time with her was what made me whole. We were one, inseparable, and endlessly happy. I truly enjoyed one good life. My motto: “Anything for a Laugh,” with honorable mentions to “If you can break it, I can fix it,” and “Don’t apply for a job, create one.” Now that I’m gone, here’s the part where I confess a few things: - I’m the guy who stole the safe from the Motor View Drive-In back in June 1971. - I never earned that PhD—turns out a clerical error got me a diploma I never earned. I only had three years of college credit. - To the Park Ranger whose geyser I ruined by rolling rocks into it—yeah, that was me. - Disneyland and SeaWorld San Diego—you can close those lifetime ban files now. To my colleagues, especially the electronic engineers: Sorry for the charade—but at least my designs worked, and I kept the lab fun. I lived, I laughed, I confessed. I’m out.

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William “Billy” Miller, 39, died unexpectedly on March 29, 2024, at his home in Columbia, TN. Known to most as “Billy” and to some as “Bill,” he was a proud father, loyal friend, woodworker, salesman, and a man with a big heart—and always a few bandanas and his dog, Moose, by his side. A graduate of Columbia Central High School, Billy was surrounded by a close-knit group ...read more

of friends. His greatest joy and accomplishment was his daughter, Odessa, who brought love and purpose to his life. He had a magnetic personality—smart, funny, and always ready for a good story or a debate about conspiracy theories and controversial topics. Billy loved fishing, card games, corn hole, the Outer Banks, Mule Day, neon colors, horror films, Gain-scented laundry, ranch dressing, Q-tips, tennis shoes, shop tools, and making silly faces in photos. He is survived by his mother, Karen Albertson Miller; father, Bill Miller; sisters, Blair Miller and Madison Miller; daughter, Odessa Miller, and her mother, Alex Brown; his dog, Moose; as well as many aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends. He was preceded in death by his grandparents, Bill and Nancy Miller, and Gene and Patsy Albertson. Billy was not one for life’s theatrics or doing things he didn’t want to do—and he would not have attended his own funeral. In keeping with that spirit, the family will hold a celebration of life in the coming months once they’ve had time to process this unexpected loss.

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Waffle House lost a loyal customer on April 30, 2013, when Antonia W. "Toni" Larroux passed away after battling a list of illnesses that reads like a medical encyclopedia. Known for her wit, resilience, and refusal to return library books, Toni lived a life full of humor and love. She once ...read more

conquered polio, which earned her the unfortunate nickname “polio legs” from her ex-husband, Jean F. Larroux Jr.—and perhaps explained their divorce over 35 years ago. From that marriage came two confirmed children, Hayden Hoffman and Jean F. Larroux III. Thanks to anonymous Mother’s Day cards, there may be more. Toni reminded Jean III he was “just like his father,” a remark he is still unpacking in therapy. Hayden married Stephen Hoffman, whose steady presence balanced the family chaos, and their daughter Helen was once called by Toni “the well-behaved child Hayden deserved.” Toni’s four sisters—Patty, Kitty, Lisa, and Piji—shared her humor and commitment to Clairol Blonde #47, a tradition passed down by their father, Paul “P. Marvelous” White. She served on the Hancock County Library Foundation board, though the library mainly contacted her for overdue books she refused to return. Her final words were, fittingly: “Tell them the check is in the mail…” She retired from GE Plastics after Hurricane Katrina and would be delighted to have the smoking room named in her honor. She treasured her friendships with Myrtle Jane Wingo Haas, her adopted daughters Liz and Laura, and her grandson Aaron Burrell. She also possessed the uncanny ability to usher family pets to the afterlife at an alarming rate. Toni’s favorite pastime was sipping tea on Dollar General porch furniture, which will be sold at her garage “estate” sale. In her honor, donations should be made to the Hancock County Library Foundation—especially the overdue book fund. She taught her children to laugh at the days to come. She will be deeply missed. She is not dead. She is alive.

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Terry Wayne Ward, 71, of DeMotte, IN, escaped this mortal realm on January 23, 2018, leaving behind 32 jars of Miracle Whip, 17 boxes of Hamburger Helper, and a zombie-apocalypse stash of supplies. A Vietnam veteran and AT&T retiree, he lived with humor, grit, and plenty of hot sauce. He met the love of his life, Kathy, by claiming he was a lineman—carefully omitting ...read more

that it was for the phone company, not the NFL. They married in 1969, squarely between the Summer of Love and the Winter of Regret. A proud U.S. Army Vietnam veteran, Terry went on to spend 39 years with AT&T (or whatever name it was going by at the time). Along the way, he stockpiled 3,000 rolls of black electrical tape, which he swore could fix anything—from bandages to warning labels. Terry enjoyed hunting, fishing, ABBA, old Buicks, Bed Bath & Beyond, starlight mints, and free beer. He dispensed popsicles with zeal, loved turning on cartoons like Phineas and Ferb (grandkids optional), and waged a personal war against hummus—tolerating it only when disguised as “bean dip.” He believed The Blues Brothers was the greatest film ever made, Clint Eastwood the ultimate badass, and hot sauce a universal enhancer. He never owned a cell phone and couldn’t have picked a Kardashian out of a lineup if his life depended on it. In his honor, raise a glass at your favorite bar and swap stories about the great Terry Ward. He would’ve liked that.

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Walter D. Harris, 56, of Ross Township, PA, died January 30, 2017, after losing a weak and cowardly battle with cancer. Born in the back seat of a Greyhound Bus on Highway 41, Walt’s infectious personality, love of the Steelers, and role as “Most Redundant” in the Department of Redundancy Department defined his one-of-a-kind life. Walt proudly “served” in the Blue Tic ...read more

Tavern on the campus of West Virginia University during the Iran Hostage Crisis—graduating eventually. Over the years, he was employed several times, but mostly enjoyed being a watcher rather than a doer. If there was a scoreboard, Walt was watching, and if it was the Steelers, he was devoted. His infectious personality once required Ross Township to impose a city-wide quarantine in 2013. A lifelong member of the Department of Redundancy Department, he held the distinguished honorific of “Most Redundant.” Walt leaves behind his spacious, three-bedroom apartment with hardwood floors and reasonable utilities. He is survived by his son, his mother, his former wife, three brothers, and his favorite aunt. Walt was his mother’s favorite oldest son. In keeping with his wishes, there will be no visitation, funeral, graveside, or memorial service. A wake will be held at some point—when people get around to it—featuring only Walt’s CDs, which means expect endless 17th-century chamber music. “I’m Walt Harris, and I approve this obituary.”

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