Cindy and I were friends for 35 years. I had moved from Ohio, and Cindy was from New York. She came to Montana for college, then worked with me at the Montana Developmental Center, back when it was called the Boulder River School and Hospital.
There was a group of us who were friends: Cindy and her husband Phil, me and Ernie, Jim and Betty Sigurdson, Larry and Judi Saarinen, Lee and Noreen Swanson. We had pinochle parties together, hayrides, progressive dinners – we had a great time with those.
Being from New York, Cindy tried to turn us Montanans to having a little class. When she was working, she was in her work duds – jeans and a sweatshirt that was probably three sizes too big. But when we went out, she would dress up with classy clothes, and she looked really nice.
At one of our progressive dinners, we got to her house and Larry Saarinen said, “What the hell is this stuff?” I said, “it’s liver pate. That’s what they’re eating in New York.” She knew a lot about cheese, and at one point, she ran a cheese store in Whitehall that Phil bought for her.
After she married Phil, Cindy bowled a lot. In those days, bowling was a big deal in this town: Phil & Tim’s had a men’s league night on Wednesday’s, women’s league on Thursdays, and mixed league on Sundays. She loved her bowling, and she was quite good; her team would regularly go to state competitions.
She’s the one who got me to bowl. My very first night was the funniest. I scored a 192, and Cindy came running over to my alley and exclaimed, “We got a bowler here!” Now, I never saw a score like that again – but she was always so excited thinking I was going to be a great bowler.
After Phil died, Cindy became part-owner of Phil & Tim’s. She did the books and worked at the bar. I lost my husband the same year, and Cindy and I would help each other out. She could fix anything, I tell you. Something in my home would break, and I’d call her, and she’d always say, “I’ll be right over.” Every summer, she’d be over here fixing a sprinkler head. She’d be on the ground, dig them up and replace them like new.
With her, everything had to be precise; she was adamant about things being done right. Once, she hung a rack in my bathroom, and she ran back and forth to her house, getting the right tools and fasteners. I can tell you, that thing is never going to come down.
She was quite the gal.
