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Posts Tagged ‘in memory’

Lathom Kelley, a badass with a big heart. (Photo by JohnsPhotos.net)

The first sound you hear is footsteps.

Coming fast and strong from behind, then next to you, then exploding past you, as he literally runs up the gym wall, elevating as high as possible before his body flips over and he crashes back to the floor.

Then his laugh, filling the entire gym, and filtering away through the open doors, spilling across the prairie.

He pauses for a moment, both arms thrust high over his head, grin creasing his face, fingers firing a rock-em salute to the heavens, and then he’s gone, off to other adventures in what will undoubtedly be a busy day.

He is Lathom Kelley and he is a genuine one-of-one human being, not quite like any other kid who I have written about in the thousands of articles I’ve tapped out over the last three-decades-plus.

A rabble rouser at times, yes, but one with a true heart of gold.

He punches a locker to fire up his football team, breaks his hand on a lock he probably thought he could bust wide open through sheer force of will, then plays every last down the rest of the season, hand encased in a cast, swinging madly to and fro as he drags a pack of would-be tacklers down the field.

Lining up alongside Wiley Hesselgrave, the quiet man of few words assassin who is the yin to his yang — Lathom is more a hootin’ and hollerin’ wrecking ball of pure emotion — the duo truly leave every last drop of sweat they have on the turf.

“Can’t hold me down!” (Photo by JohnsPhotos.net)

Put him in a track and field uniform, and Lathom can, and almost does, compete in every event offered.

Except for maybe the pole vault, likely because the coaches are afraid he’ll use the extra boost as a way to soar up above the clouds and land on the school roof, just to entertain the fans.

Cause if there’s a show to put on, Lathom loves the spotlight, and it loves him right back.

And yet, he is at times astonishingly low-key about his own talents, quick to praise others, to build up his teammates and demand they get their well-deserved praise.

Sharing the spotlight with brother Brandon. (Shawna Kelley photo)

He bursts with pride when he talks about his brother, Brandon, and there is a moment during a boys’ basketball Senior Night event where he shows a depth few teenagers have.

Every Wolf player but one has family on the scene, but Lathom won’t allow his classmate to be left alone when his name is announced.

Bounding down from the top of the stands, he flies onto the court, slides in behind, plucks the rose from his hand, and bearhugs his mate, lifting him off the floor while bellowing, “My boy! My boy!! I’m so proud of you!!”

Afterwards Lathom exits, stage left, rose clenched between his teeth, off to create more good-natured havoc wherever they will have him, and the buzz in the CHS gym still lingers to his day.

For a couple of years, I run a yearly poll to name the top high school athlete, a chance to spike my page views and allow enterprising computer hackers to try and bust the system.

Lathom? He should be a favorite to win, but he refuses to be part of it, telling me he’s not looking to crush anyone else’s dreams.

“And I already know I’m awesome anyway,” he adds, and then laughs and heads out to create more havoc.

Until he sees that a parent has gifted me a plate of chocolate chip cookies, and suddenly Lathom slides back into view, popping up at my elbow to enquire, “So, you gonna eat all those yourself?? Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy!!”

He is part of the CHS Class of 2016, and he and his classmates are in their first days as freshmen when I launch this blog late in the summer of 2012.

There are one or two of his fellow frosh who I have known since they were little kids, a couple of others who I know in passing.

Lathom? I don’t know him at all in August 2012, but as he strolls past me at one of his first high school football practices, he turns, sees me writing something down that the coach has said, and leans in.

“Hey, you better learn my name, it’s Lathom Kelley … cause I … am … gonna … be HUGE!!!”

And then he laughs all the way to the locker room, not knowing how right he was.

There are learning pains and twists and turns over the next four years, but Lathom at 18 is not Lathom at 14.

Then he goes on to real life, and Lathom at 25 is not Lathom at 18.

We pass each other from time to time, in the stands at games or on a street in Cow Town, and he is still an entertaining dude, but the growth is evident, and I’m not just talking about his beard.

He is finding all the layers to his personal onion, and the people who love him have grown to include a little boy who will be a better man because of his time with Lathom.

But then he’s gone, three days after his 25th birthday, a hole punched through the universe by a tragic accident on the water.

Life is not fair, and it is easy to get swept away by sadness and despair.

That Lathom has not been forgotten, that others have kept his memory alive, fresh and treasured, in the four years since his death, gives me hope.

The CHS Class of 2016 has its 10-year reunion in October, a chance for those freshmen from the first days of Coupeville Sports to reunite and see where life has taken them over the last decade.

Lathom won’t be there in body, but I have no doubt he will absolutely be there in spirit.

That he will live on through the memories of his friends, who will tell stories about the irrepressible one — some we know, some that are theirs and theirs alone.

I know that for me, I think about Lathom every time I see the header photo on this blog, which features his #44 uniform.

When I walk off Mickey Clark Field after talking to a coach after a game, most of the lights having winked off, I still picture him in my mind’s eye.

Crashing down the field. Headbutting his teammates. Good-naturedly needling his coaches. Eyeballing my plate of cookies.

And when I walk into the CHS gym, I pause for a second every time.

Because no matter how loud it is at that moment, or how quiet, if you listen, truly listen, it’s always there.

It’s the footsteps, full of joy and mischief, full of life.

It’s Lathom Kelley flying by, and it is the sweetest sound.

 

There is a scholarship in Lathom’s memory. For more info, pop over to:

Living Like Lathom Scholarship | Coupeville Schools Foundation

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Roxallanne Medley

Twenty years down the road, memories of Videoville still loom large for me.

One of our more enduring customers, Roxallanne Medley, died last week at age 80, and we want to take a few moments to remember her.

 

From her daughter, Melissa:

Roxallanne passed peacefully with her family by her side and a small smile on her face.

A true force of nature, we can picture her arriving in heaven on a breath of salty sea air, dancing to Irish fiddle tunes.

She packed at least three lifetimes into her one precious life.

She lived decisively: there was never a box that could contain her independent spirit and adventurous nature.

She was defined by her creativity, boldness, love of life and unquenchable energy.

Roxallanne knew music deep in her soul from a young age.

She began playing the violin at age six and when her younger siblings began their musical studies, the family home was never without the raucous sounds of budding string players.

She was concertmaster of the Portland Junior Symphony before her marriage to David in 1964.

A move soon after brought her an audition and a subsequent long career as a violinist with the Seattle Symphony Orchestra.

Later, the years she spent as concertmaster with the Saratoga Orchestra on Whidbey brought her great musical and personal joy.

In 1981, Roxallanne left the orchestra to complete her undergraduate degree at Seattle Pacific University in Elementary Education and then graduated summa cum laude with her master’s in education from Lesley College in Cambridge.

She embarked on a second career and was an elementary teacher at Coupeville Elementary on Whidbey Island for many years.

Together, Roxallanne and her co-teacher combined their talents to nurture a generation of young students to love learning, nature and seek excellence later in life.

After retiring from teaching, Roxallanne built a successful music studio from her home on Whidbey Island and brought the gift of music to scores of young violinists. She inspired the next generation of fiddlers to pursue their own musical dreams.

Her creativity didn’t stop with music; she loved all of the arts and shared her passion with those around her.

She was never without her sketchbook and paints and left behind volumes of precious journals filled with whimsical drawings and writings about the world around her.

She crafted delightful ceramic tiles and art and learned to spin and weave with fleece from their own sheep.

She also wielded her pen with the natural Irish gift of storytelling.

She was a woman who needed to be near the saltwater.

Early on, Roxallanne and David became sailors and spent years cruising the Salish Sea with their only child, Melissa, on their 22’ boat.

Eventually they moved aboard a 42’ ketch with the intention of someday casting off the dock lines permanently.

Life had other plans for them, and a move to Whidbey Island soon coalesced all they loved about the Pacific Northwest.

Roxallanne adored walking the beaches with her Golden Retrievers, crabbing in Penn Cove, clam digging with her dad, and sharing her island home with her two grandchildren and the family and visitors who frequently stopped by.

A special love was her travels with David that brought her to other bodies of water in Ireland and Cape Breton.

The allure of the sea combined with the Celtic musical tradition she found in those travels shaped much of who she was.

She left her beloved island home four years ago to be closer to family as her health began to wane, but her heart never left the rocky beaches and windswept prairies of Whidbey Island. She missed them every day.

She was most at home in nature, whether tending to one of the many beautiful gardens she planted wherever she lived, paddling her canoe or kayak, or raising heritage sheep.

She was passionate and vocal about protecting the environment.

Roxallanne’s family often laughingly called her a druid, and rarely did she miss an opportunity to celebrate a solstice and revel in the change of the seasons.

Food was her love language. Even though she was skinny as a rail, there was never a lack of abundance at her table or when she visited, and it was always served with a great deal of salt and butter.

Roxallanne and David hosted many musical St. Patrick’s Day celebrations in their home, replete with corned beef and cabbage, Irish soda bread, and her signature Guinness cake.

The world has lost a sweet light, and yet it still reflects in those she left behind: her husband of 62 years, David Medley; her daughter Melissa Medley Rodewald and son-in-law Doug; grandchildren Katie Rodewald Root and Andrew (great grandchildren Josephine, Teddy, and Elizabeth), and Jonah Rodewald and fiancée Amanda.

She was a devoted and loving sister to Bridget Kelly, as well as to Cathie Kelly and Randy Kelly.

Her presence will also be missed by her nieces Maghean, Laurie, and Mollie, and nephews Josh (Emily) and Patrick.

She was preceded in death by her mom, LaVerne Ione Norton Kelly, and her dad, Frank Edward Kelly.

Roxallanne was complex, independent, proud and so incredibly strong.

And she was one of a kind: her life was a blueprint for how to listen to your own voice, how to face intense challenges with resilience, and still stand tall.

The phrase “you can’t” was never in her vocabulary and she met everything life threw at her with determination and fortitude.

A celebration of life will be held at a later date in Coupeville. Contact daughter Melissa for details.

Instead of flowers, her family asks that you remember Roxallanne with hearts full of gratitude for her life so beautifully lived.

Remember her by listening to gorgeous music and early morning bird song, walking with your happy dog, digging in the dirt in the afternoon sun, or feeling the wind and salt on your face.

Her legacy remains with us.

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Randy Blindauer

Wolf Nation remembers.

While I don’t know that I ever met Randy Blindauer in person, he is linked to two of the biggest moments in Coupeville High School athletic history.

He played for three varsity basketball teams in the ’70s, scoring 166 points.

Which in a moment of kismet, puts him at exactly #166 currently on the career scoring chart made up of the 433 Wolf boys I’ve been able to document rattling the rim in a varsity contest.

Big moment #2 came on March 3, 1976, when Blindauer and his teammates beat Columbia (Burbank) 80-63 at the state basketball tourney.

That was the first state victory for any CHS team, in any sport.

Big moment #1 had already arrived on September 19, 1975, when Cow Town’s football gridiron officially became known as Mickey Clark Field.

The Wolf football team, including Blindauer, became the first athletes to play on the newly named stretch of land, facing off with Chimacum.

Blindauer died earlier this month at age 67 but remains a part of Wolf Nation forever.

 

From his family:

Randy Allen Blindauer passed away peacefully at home on June 8, 2026, surrounded by his family.

Randy was born on March 17, 1959, in Mitchell, South Dakota.

After graduating from Coupeville High School, he began a career in construction that would span nearly 50 years.

He eventually became a Civil Superintendent and took great pride in his work.

Randy often joked that he wasn’t a “nail bender.” He just “played in the dirt.”

He spent his life building strong foundations that supported homes, businesses, and communities for generations.

Randy was known for being able to fix just about anything. If something was broken, family and friends knew he was the person to call.

He was steady, dependable, and always willing to help.

More than anything, Randy loved his family.

He was a devoted husband, father, and grandfather whose greatest joy came from spending time with those he loved.

He enjoyed camping, being outdoors, cruises, and trips to Disney, which always brought out the big kid in him—his impressive Tigger collection affirms this!

Along with the enormous pride he took in his family and work, he deeply enjoyed the beautiful Whidbey Island home and property that he and his wife, Heidi, consider their oasis.

Whether he was working on the home, traveling, or spending time with his grandchildren, Randy treasured every moment.

In January 2025, Randy was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. He faced his illness with strength and determination, fighting hard every day until the end.

Randy is survived by his wife of 20 years, Heidi Blindauer; his children, Holly Blindauer, Jessica Blindauer, Christy (Brooks) Rice, and Robert Hubner; and his six grandchildren, Siena Blindauer, Brooklyn Robb, Noelle Rice, Dawson Rice, William Rice, and Jeremiah Rice.

He was preceded in death by his parents, John and Lucille Blindauer; his brother, Greg Blindauer; and his son, Matthew Hubner.

The family invites friends and coworkers to a Celebration of Life service and reception with light food and drinks on Monday, June 29, 2026, beginning at 4:00 PM.

Location: Living Word Foursquare Church, 490 NW Crosby Ave in Oak Harbor, Washington.

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” — 2 Timothy 4:7

Please, do not send flowers.

Donations are welcome to continue the fight against cancer through the following organizations:

 

Blood Cancer United:

https://givenow.bloodcancerunited.org/campaign/717321/donate

 

Leukemia Research Foundation:

Donate now

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Bob Clay

Bob Clay was truly one of the good guys of Cow Town.

He might have been born in a different state, but he embraced his adopted town and had a considerable positive impact on Coupeville in the nearly three decades he lived here.

When our paths crossed, whether in the aisles at Videoville or in the stands at Wolf games, I always found him to be friendly, kind, and a man of great wisdom.

 

From his family:

Robert (“Bob”) Clay passed away peacefully on June 9, 2026, at the age of 85.

Bob was born on December 27, 1940, in Portland, Oregon, to Charles and Lois Clay.

He spent his childhood in Portland and graduated from Cleveland High School and earned a BS degree from Portland State University.

Following his education, Bob proudly served his country in the United States Air Force.

In 1962, Bob married Patria Cameron, and together they raised two children, Diedra and Cameron. He married Marilyn Sherman in 1992.

After retiring from a successful career in the heavy equipment industry, Bob and Marilyn moved to Coupeville in 1998.

Bob quickly embraced his adopted hometown and devoted himself to making it an even better place to live.

He took great pride and pleasure in serving the community he instantly came to love.

An athlete throughout much of his life, Bob brought the same energy and dedication to his civic involvement.

He served on the Coupeville Town Council and was an active member of the Lions Club and supporter of the Boys & Girls Club.

His generosity, steady leadership, and willingness to help others touched many lives.

Above all, Bob was a kind and loving father, stepfather, grandfather, husband, and friend.

He was known for his warmth, integrity, sense of humor, and genuine interest in the people around him.

Bob is survived by his wife, Marilyn Clay; daughter Diedra Clay and her husband, Mike McLeod; granddaughters Sofie and Sadie Clay; his dear sister Judy Smith and her husband, John; stepchildren Corrie Chamberlin; Alix and Brandon Roos; Scott Chamberlin and Stephanie Barish; brothers-in-law Vin Sherman and Dale Sherman and Dale’s wife, Liz; and step-grandchildren Alex Cross, Maximillian McLeod, Margaret McLeod, Milo Chamberlin, Thea Chamberlin, and Zayne Roos.

He was preceded in death by his son, Cameron Robert Clay, in 2025.

A commemoration of Bob’s very full life will be held at a later date.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Boys & Girls Club of Snohomish County, 8223 Broadway, Suite 100, Everett, WA 98203.

Please note “Coupeville” on the memo line to support local programs.

Bob’s life was marked by service, kindness, and a deep love for family and community. He will be greatly missed and fondly remembered by all who knew him.

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Kent Turner (Photos courtesy Ken Stange)

Whidbey is paying tribute to one of its best today, after Kent Turner passed away Wednesday at age 39.

A 2005 graduate of Coupeville High School who played tennis for the Wolves, he was the son of Deborah Turner, who served on the school board between 2001-2008.

One of his friends, former longtime CHS tennis coach and teacher Ken Stange, offered up the following tribute, which he is letting us republish:

 

Kent was a major fixture in so many communities on our island.

He drummed for four bands that I know of. He was well known and respected in his work.

He was a very active member of his church. He helped people with sobriety.

He grew up here on the island. He was helpful and kind and funny. He was a friend to many, me included.

I was fortunate enough to have known Kent from two of those large communities he was a part of.

In 2004, I began teaching in Coupeville. It was Kent’s senior year.

I didn’t have him in class and even though he was a tennis player, I didn’t start coaching until my second year there, just after he’d graduated.

Still, we’d managed to strike up a pretty cool relationship because despite not being in my class, he spent quite a bit of time in my classroom.

We had a shared love of tennis and music, plus he was just a really nice kid.

We had a stupid joke about how he was Kent and I was Ken, from Kent.

Ten years later I moved to the South end and there he was again!

I’d see him around often and we’d always chat about tennis and sports; about how awesome the band Rush was.

He was just one of those guys who left you feeling better than you’d felt before you ran into him. Those are some of the best people!

A few years later, he was drumming on the Bailey’s stage.

No longer the kid at Coupeville High School, I saw him for the grown adult man he was, and a damn fine example of one at that.

I always loved chatting with him. He was beloved and well-respected member of the Whidbey music scene, and I was lucky, happy, and proud to be associated with him.

Tripp’n Gypsy’s … Haunting Autumn … Ant Aesthetic … Ike and The Old Man. Those were his bands, all different sounds and all with Kent holding down the fort.

I was fortunate enough to be invited to sit in with Tripp’n Gypsy’s a little bit. They were the first ones to do it.

I got to do two different songs by The Tragically Hip with them. It involved actually going to their band practices and working with them.

I remember the first time well.

The song was called “Scared,” and to be honest, so was I.

I’d never sang outside of being alone in a car and while I was a huge Tragically Hip fan, Scared was not exactly a song that would be easy because it was a soft one.

No screaming, and it had some tricky word combos.

I was nervous.

I showed up to their practice space, and they all made me feel at home. We began practicing the song.

We’d start … we’d stop … we rinsed and repeated several times.

I felt like an interloper as I listened to band members discuss things and hash out details about making the song flow better. I felt that I was definitely in over my head.

Then Kent shouted above everyone and asked what I thought.

For some reason, I didn’t feel like an interloper anymore, didn’t feel in over my head.

I added my thoughts.

Kent said that I’d probably listened to that song many more times than everyone. He even took some advice from me about his part.

We all got back to it. It sounded better and better.

The next weekend, they shepherded me through my first ever public singing performance. For me, it was all Kent.

He was the catalyst with his building of my confidence and enabling me to get up there and do it with some form of conviction.

The next time I performed with Tripp’n Gypsy’s, I had input into the song.

We chose “Fiddler’s Green,” again by The Hip.

It’s a sad song about a boy gone too soon from the world. I loved that one, and I hope that William Leffler and the gang will want to run it back with “Fiddler’s Green,” for Kent.

Hopefully, we can have some sort Kent Fest, so the community of musicians and music lovers, along with anyone else from all his other communities, can celebrate Kent, his life, and all the ways he helped us live better.

Kent, I love you and miss you.

I also know you’d say this post is lame and that having a party in your honor would be even lamer.

Peace, my friend.

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