I received word from my mom the other day that Marlis Glaspey had passed away. Part of living, being alive, and taking part in this life is that we receive word of such more and more as we move further and further along in our journey. Receiving such word always comes with an unpredictable array of thoughts and feelings, all dependent upon one’s personal relationship to the recently deceased individual.

If you lived in Lignite, you knew Marlis. My brother and I were paperboys in Lignite in the early 80’s. My brother, Jarvis, delivered papers to those living east of Main Street, and I delivered to those living west of Main Street.

Due to the very varying temperaments possessed by my brother and I, those that lived east of Main Street were generally a few hours ahead of the game when it came to being “in the know” of any newspaper worthy goings on. As my Grandpa Ardell always said, “Old news is still news if you haven’t read it yet.”

Marlis was the Post Master in Lignite when we were kids. The newspaper bundles were dropped off at the post office, and my brother and I would come to the post office to get the papers for delivery.

I was just a kid, but I remember that Marlis never spoke to me as “just a kid”. She spoke to me as if I might actually know something, and she appeared honestly interested in what that something might be. I always appreciated that, and as so often happens in life, I wish I would have expressed my appreciation to her. So it goes.

As I begrudgingly filled my bag with newspapers, she would always…always…always, ask about my day, and wished me well as I slogged out the door, my scrawny frame swaying under the weight of news, sale flyers, comics, and the such.

Even as a knucklehead little kid, I remember being amazed at how quick, yet effortlessly, she moved while attending to her various Post Master duties. When I got older, no less of a knucklehead, but older, I was always impressed by the dignified way in which she carried herself. Always neatly dressed, hair always done, spritely, spirited, yet graceful with a ready smile and a kind word.

I would go so far as to say that if there were ever a Queen of Lignite, it was Marlis. Not the type of queen that sits around barking orders and pointing her scepter at what needs to be done, but the kind that leads by doing what needs to be done.

Lignite has lost a rock, a pillar of the community, an individual that took it upon herself to selflessly give of her time, and do whatever it was that needed to be done while never asking for anything in return except to proudly call Lignite her home.

My sincere condolences to Marlis’s loved ones, may you find some comfort in the life she lived and all that she meant to Lignite.

Long live the Queen.