Our daughter Kathleen never tired of hearing how her mother and I first met. She loved the Strangers in the Night, Love at First Sight romance of it all. Me, a high school dropout from upstate New York and her mother, a Senior Prom Queen from the Pacific Northwest. We met at a USO dance on a navy air base where I was stationed. Neither one of us had planned on attending. I was to go beer drinking with a buddy and she was doing a last minute favor for the USO director.
She wore a white blouse and a pleated red skirt. I noticed immediately that the blush of her cheeks matched the rose she wore at her collar. I was stunned by her beauty. She was the virtual girl next store and before I knew it I asked her to dance. We exchanged names. I had to ask her to repeat hers because I had never heard it before: Camilla. We made the usual small talk. I was pleased to hear she was from Anacortes a small town not too far from the base. When the first dance was over we continued to talk and, in fact, we danced together the rest of the evening.
As the evening progressed we spoke of many things and discovered common interests in music, books, and movies. We were drawn to each other and the more we danced the more certain we were that we wanted to see each other again.
There was one vivid moment that evening that my daughter loved to hear. After the first few tentative dances, I waxed bold enough to draw Camilla closer to me, and when our cheeks first touched it was as if a flash of lightning jolted through me. It was palpable, profound and unforgettable. Now, some 60 years later, I am certain that in that instant I fell in love with a total stranger with a name I had never heard, from a small town I never heard of, some 3000 miles from my home.
When the dance was over and we agreed that I would call the next day. I went back to my barracks (drunk on love), woke my buddy (drunk on beer), and told him that I just met the girl I was going to marry.
MARRIAGE, KIDS, CAREER I once read that of all human acts none are more courageous, more profound, or more foolish than that of marriage and it’s most significant result, procreation. Without even considering the economic, emotional, or the awesome personal responsibility involved Camilla and I are still shocked at how naively, how easily, and yes, how cavalierly we assumed these most divine and difficult roles. Almost children ourselves, barely past our teens, hopelessly in love, and totally unprepared for the tasks ahead we simply danced our way to where angels surely would have feared to tread … and entered into a life that we could never have imagined
In the early years of our marriage, I completed my high school requirements, graduated from college and entered a management training position with a national insurance company. Meanwhile, Camilla was kept busy giving birth to our three children, Jack (our rock), Kathleen (our wild rose), and Mark (Kathleen would dub him “the white sheep of the family.”) and learning how to be a housewife and mother.
Early on Camilla developed a talent as a homemaker that would serve us throughout our marriage. She collected old rags and was able to string them together to make a striking multi-colored carpet for our living room. She was an accomplished seamstress and could do miracles with a sewing machine. She made many of her own clothes as well as things for our children. She was seldom without knitting needles in her hands and she could fashion beautiful scarves and sweaters. At one time she knit a wool coat for herself that was so stylish my employer expressed surprise that we could afford such elegant clothing on my meager earnings.
My business career took us to a three-year adventure in Anchorage Alaska, an eight-year stint in Spokane and finally back to Seattle where I eventually left the corporate life to establish my own insurance business. Throughout all of this Camilla and I maintained our love of dancing. At every opportunity, we joined with other couples at various galas and balls.
During the college years and on into my corporate climb, Camilla performed the miracle of childbirth three times: John Ferrand our oldest, Kathleen Ann our wild rose and Mark James who Kathleen dubbed the white sheep of the family. As parents, Camilla and I watched them grow from infants, on through childhood, the tough teen years and on to adults. There were some wonderful times and some rocky periods that tested our love and patience. During all this time Camilla performed the tough task of the stay-at-home mother. She devoted all of those years to raising the children and she did it very well. The proof of that are the very successful marriages that all three of the children have today.
While doing the major part of the parenting job Camilla also played the role of corporate wife. My career took us on a three-year adventure in Alaska where I became the state manager for Aetna Life. From there we went to Spokane where I was named General Agent. In every move, Camilla supported my career in every way. It was not always easy. While I had a built-in “family” of staff and agents at the office Camilla was left at home with the children in a new and strange environment. It was not too bad in Anchorage; the minute we got off the plane we were greeted by the locals with open arms. However, in Spokane, we bought a home in a very prestigious and older part of town.
Camilla quickly learned that if you had not met in kindergarten the locals gave you a very cold shoulder. As one neighbor told her, “I just don’t have time for new friends.” If you were new to town you were a “transient.” Our final move was to return to Seattle where I decided to end my corporate career and become an independent insurance broker.
PARENTING, THE JOURNEY To some few and fortunate couples there comes a time in their relationship when something wonderful occurs, something magical, something spiritual; they reach a new place, a new boundary and become more than husband and wife. They move beyond mere marriage and enter a new and special domain. For Camilla and me that moment came at a family wedding.
We sat in a front row pew in a small church and watched as the youngest of our three children exchanged the vows of marriage with his lovely bride. It was a beautiful ceremony filled with high emotion and very much like the one his mother and I shared what still seemed a few short years ago. As we sat there and listened to Mark, as he proudly and lovingly spoke the words, “I do,” Camilla and I, without realizing what was happening, were quite suddenly summarily retired from the most important job we had ever had. While it is true that we still retained the titles of Mother and Father, we have come to see that at that beautiful moment we ended over thirty years of parenting.
I am always amused when I see the bumper sticker that reads, “Super Mom” or “Super Dad.” In our modern urban culture, with all its uncertainties (and certainties) it simply takes a superhuman effort for any parent to achieve a consistent degree of success. If parenting were an Olympic event, it would most certainly take top honors in “the degree of difficulty” category.
I recall having lunch with a friend of mine several years ago who happened to be a child psychiatrist. I was lamenting my parental woes and frustrations. He merely smiled and informed me that parenting was the second most difficult task in the world. When I asked what could possibly be more difficult he said, “Being a child – it takes a lifetime to get over it.” It is easy for us to say now, given the opportunity, we would do it all over again. There were times of frustration, anger, disappointment and even despair for both of us. But, having gone through it and now being able to experience some of the rewards that can come to parents at this time in their lives, we would do it in a heartbeat. However, we both agree, we would do it differently.
We would pay more attention to the real priorities – for me my family would come before my career. I would be more available for my children. We would both listen more to what they said and a lot more to what they did not say. We would recognize earlier on that a child brings a kind of wisdom with them and that parents can learn as much from them as we think they learn from us. We would be less of parents and more of a mother and father and friends. We would be less critical and would have fewer expectations. And we would learn earlier on that patience is the kindest gift you can give a child.
But we can’t do it over, and somehow, almost in spite of our amateur inadequacies, we had survived as a family. The wedding itself was a clear and wonderful demonstration that we had, after all, done a pretty good job and that there were rich rewards for hanging in there and staying together. Our oldest son, Jack was best man, and our daughter, Kathleen was asked to read from Scriptures. As we watched each of them plays their roles in the ceremony we were deeply moved by the genuine love and affection they shared for one another. All the formative years of sibling rivalry had somehow blossomed into a mature and lasting relationship.
We had come to see that after some of the struggles and heartaches of being a family we had all reached something new and beautiful. It is as if by some mysterious and unspoken agreement, we had all arrived at a new place in our lives – we had survived the journey intact, together, with our love for each other safe and secure. It would be wonderful to suggest that as retired parents Camilla and I could have now walked off into some mythical sunset. But, while the job may have become easier, life had a way of continually challenging and confronting us.
We recovered from the initial sense of loss that such an occasion brings. Already we had found a new sense of freedom, and yes, liberation. We felt good about the fact that we had our most important task behind us. We looked forward to being together, to get to know each other again, to fall in love with each other in new and different ways.
But we had learned from experience not to take anything for granted. While Camilla and I were grateful for all that we had found in our new life, we had a strong sense of awareness about the one unalterable reality inherent in all human relations – time. For when that ceremony was concluded and we arrived back in our newly emptied nest, we could not help but wonder about the suddenness of it all. Where had all those years gone? Hadn't we just met each other yesterday?
CAMILLA GOES BACK TO SCHOOL Camilla had always felt a sense of loss having left school after her freshmen year. Our marriage had something to do with that. And, it was also at this time that a trusted adviser suggested she learn to be more aggressive. We were fortunate to live in an area that had a wonderful two-year school, Bellevue Community College. Looking back I think it took a lot of courage for her to make and move forward on this decision. Prior to this time, Camilla had lived for many years in the safe and secure cocoon of family life. She really had no friends outside of our very limited social life made up primarily from my business associates.
She had no idea of where to begin so she asked our son Jack, who was currently in college, to go to the school and find out how to apply. Jack did more than just that – he came home and informed his mother that he had signed her up for a class in Human Development that began the following week.
Camilla’s first day in class can best be described as a life-altering experience. To begin with, the class was held in what was called, “The Pillow Room”: it had no windows and the students were required to sit in a circle on the floor. The instructor was a woman and she introduced herself by her first name, Kay. The first thing she asked the students was to go around the room and introduce themselves and tell the class about their personal lives. All of this was more than unnerving for Camilla: a room with pillows, sitting on the floor, a woman instructor and now being faced with having to tell who she was? She was Mrs. John J. Lee, a common housewife, a mere stay-at-home mother. She suddenly realized this was not in a class at the University of Washington where she had the company of some of her sorority sisters. What had she gotten herself into?
The first classmate to introduce himself was a young man who announced that he was in therapy for the traumatic experience of being required to watch his sister being raped. Others spoke of personal issues with domestic violence, divorce, and family tragedies. Somehow when it came to Camilla’s turn she managed to give some kind report, as she now says, “without fainting.”
When she came home from that first class she was not certain that she wanted to continue. However, the next morning she got dressed, ate breakfast and drove off to “the pillow room.” Before she knew it she got up each morning and could hardly wait to get back to “her class.” She finished the quarter and immediately applied for a training course in Peer Counseling. At the completion of that class, she was hired as a Peer Counselor in the school’s Human Development Department.
In a short time, she was appointed as the director of what was then called the “High School Completion Program” where former high school dropouts (like her husband was) could earn their diplomas. Camilla ultimately helped in the development all of the necessary Washington State requirements for the program that is now known as, “Running Start.” This course is now provided in most Community Colleges in the state.
Camilla made many new friends at the school, (I referred to them as her Academia Nuts). Her first instructor, Kay, became one of the closest. One experience brought all this into clear focus for me. She hosted several get-togethers and I was stunned during the first of these occasions to walk into our kitchen to see it filled with all of these strange looking people I had never met.
My God, there was a huge black man hugging my wife, a woman speaking with a beautiful Spanish accent, a scattering of Asians and one incredible man with Muscular Dystrophy being carried in the arms by the head of the department and placed in a wheelchair. These were all Camilla’s friends and associates and they each had a high degree of affection and respect for Camilla. This was not the first time (nor was it to be the last) that my eyes brimmed over with tears of pride and wonder at what this beautiful, remarkable, courageous woman could accomplish.
DANCING WITH MS MS is a disease that deteriorates the myelin of nerve fibers – like the sheathing of spark plug wires – MS occurs when a person’s immune system becomes sensitized to a protein on the surface of the myelin cells which form the sheath covering the nerves. This sensitization causes the class of immune cells known as killer T cells to attack the myelin, disabling the nerve conduction, which creates the symptoms of the disease.
Someone once observed that MS is a disease that kills by inches. In the beginning, there are no apparent signs of illness. Camilla’s first indication that she might be falling prey to the disease happened shortly after her return to college. The initial symptom developed slowly in her right eye, a blind spot in the center of her vision. During a subsequent eye exam by her ophthalmologist, he said that there was nothing he could do for the condition. He told her it might go away; however, he suggested that it might be a precursor to Multiple Sclerosis.
This, of course, was frightening news for both of us. Perhaps it was an act of denial, but since there was nothing to be done we went on with our lives and hoped for the best. In time there were more serious indications that Camilla, was indeed, dealing with the disease. There was a certain amount of pain that would come and go: stiffness in various muscles and joints. Through this initial stage, Camilla continued to perform her usual and necessary daily activities.
Slowly, over the next few years, it became more and more difficult for her to walk. At first, she would hold on to my arm and as her pace became more difficult she eventually gave into a cane. Camilla always resisted these crutches but the condition forced her to give way to a walker and finally a wheelchair. An incident occurred during the initial stage that brought the seriousness of what was happening into perspective for me. I noticed a thin piece of rope or line attached to her laundry basket. I did not think much of it until one day I saw her going from the laundry room to the clothes hamper using the line to drag the basket behind her. This was one of the many occasions where I quietly went to another room until the tears stopped.
Camilla has lost much to the disease: her physical mobility certainly and, to a significant degree, her independence. While she has had to deal with the physical pain she has experienced a good deal of existential pain. She has expressed anger at her body, the body she nurtured and cared for so diligently. She felt let down and abandoned. However, through all of this, she has never lost her dignity, her essential grace, her courage and her remarkable optimism and sense of humor.
Over the years she has done much personal work that has allowed her to grow and mature and come to terms with her life. Never once has she said, Why me? She has little patience with the New Age theory that we create our own reality. She has no love for the do-gooders who define her condition as physically challenged. She recognizes and abhors the furtive glances of those who would pity her – her observation - pity doesn’t feed the cat.
Early on Camilla was warned that many spouses chose not to deal with a partner who succumbs to such an impaired condition. She was told of cases where the patient is abandoned to a nursing home. She once asked me what I would have done if, just before our wedding, she could have told me she was going to fall victim to MS. My instant reply was, I would have told you we would deal with that when it happens.”
Camilla has always believed in the old adage, “It is an ill wind that blows no good.” On several occasions, during the course of her condition, she has had to be confined to a nursing home (or as she calls it, "the slammer"). Her most recent stay resulted from a fall that made it impossible for her to stand. During that time both of us were given instructions on how to properly care for her: lifting, transferring and other proper care techniques. However, by the time she was released we were told that we needed to get help – someone who could give Camilla professional care.
We got lucky – while in the nursing home Camilla met Olga, a trained aide who cared for her during the night shift. Olga was working at night to support her training as a phlebotomist at the local technical college. By the time we took Camilla home Olga had left the nursing home and was hired as a laboratory technician at the local medical clinic. Camilla was determined that if we had to have the help she wanted no one else except Olga.
One morning we went to the clinic and Camilla asked if she could speak with Olga. Just then she appeared – Olga - a tall, slender, beautiful young woman. She bent and hugged Camilla and when Camilla asked her if she could come and assist her Olga bent again, touched Camilla gently and said in her wonderful, native Ukrainian accent, I will help you. In that moment it was clear to me that the love and respect that Camilla had for this remarkable young woman was genuinely and sincerely reciprocated.
In the time Olga has befriended and helped Camilla she has become more than an aide. She is a very real part of our family and even more, a dear companion. We could not love her more if she was our daughter.
THE LAST DANCE Camilla and I first met at a dance. We danced with each other all evening. During the early years of our marriage, we never missed the opportunity to go dancing. Our dance still goes on now with variations on the major theme. Like jazz, our dance is now an improvised art form. We have developed several new pas de Deux as we have progressed with her condition.
In one variation when she was still using a walker she would stand on a bath mat and with the aid of the walker, she would perform a partial pirouette by shuffling her feet. In another, she would stand on the mat and I would gently pull first her right foot, then her left until we succeeded in getting her in the proper position. Another useful part of the dance was when she would lean forward on the walker, lift her left heel while I placed my foot underneath and gently moved her foot forward in a partial croisè devant: left foot, right foot, left, right, until the dance was completed. All of these variations were done with the same grace and style that Camilla demonstrated in our very first dance.
Now, in what can best be described as our twilight years, our dance has become a waltz – a lovely slow waltz. We hold each other very tightly - we know it won’t be too long before the music will stop.
Camilla’s Obituary
"It’s not how long I’ve held you in my arms, What matters is how sweet our years together. It’s not how many summer times We’ve had to give to fall, The early morning smiles we cheerfully recall, What matters most is that we loved at all.”
Camilla Sutherland Lee has died. She died the way she lived her life, with style, grace, and dignity. Her death ends a long, courageous struggle with Multiple Sclerosis that finally confined her to nursing home care. Camilla was gifted with a sweetness, a joy for life, a genuine sense of humor and a compassionate nature that drew others to her. And now we, her survivors, are left with the legacy of those gifts, the legacy of her memory that we hold in our hearts.
Camilla was born on January 25, 1930, in Colville Washington to Ferrand and Virginia Sutherland. Her parents moved to Anacortes, Washington where Camilla attended both grammar and high school. She went on to study at the University of Washington where she affiliated with the Delta Gamma sorority.
Camilla is predeceased by her loving daughter Kathleen Ann Geist and is survived by her adoring husband John (Jack), her brother Robert G. Sutherland, his wife Connie, sons Jack F. Lee, and his wife Sue, Mark J. Lee, and his wife Terri, and grandsons Brandon Wallace Lee, Mitchell Wallace Lee, Tolli Lowell-Forker and her loving son in law David Geist.
In 1950, while home from school for a weekend, Camilla attended a dance on Whidbey Island with some friends. During the evening she noticed a young man and was impressed with how well he danced. When the music stopped she placed herself within close proximity of him in the hopes he would ask her to dance; he did ask her to dance and that ultimately led to a marriage of 62 magical years to her most devoted and loving husband John (Jack) Lee.
During the years of marriage, Jack’s work provided the opportunity to travel. Camilla and the family spent three years in Anchorage, on to Spokane for eight years and finally an extended period of time living in Bellevue before retiring in Bellingham. Camilla was a stay-at-home mom during all the years of child-raising. When her youngest child Mark entered high school she returned to her own studies at Bellevue Community College. Upon graduation, she was appointed the director of what was then called “The High School Completion Program” where former high school dropouts could earn a diploma. Camilla ultimately assisted in the development of all the necessary Washington State requirements for the course now known as “Running Start.” This program is now provided in most Community Colleges in Washington State. Camilla spent her three final years in the loving care of the staff of the Alderwood Convalescent Center and we, her family, are deeply grateful for the love, affection and genuine compassion she received while there. At Camilla’s request, there will be a small family celebration held in June. In lieu of donations or gifts, please take an occasional moment to hold Camilla in your heart.
“Oh, have you seen my dear companion? For she was all this world to me.”
