STANLEY SANDERS

I thought that a nice finish to our remembrance of Aunt Pearl and Uncle Al Sanders would be a post about their son, Stanley.

One day in March 1996, I opened the local newspaper to see an obituary for my cousin, Stanley S. Sanders. I was startled. I hadn’t heard from him in several years, and while we weren’t close, I felt badly that I hadn’t known he was sick. Even though he was 29 years older than I and we didn’t have much in common, were we not family? Did we not have some kind of bond by virtue of the fact we had the same grandparents? I guess not. The obit ended with a simple statement: “Survivors include a cousin, Shirley Johnson.” (That was Shirley Jean, and within a year, she was gone, too.)

Aunt Bertha with Shirley Jean & Stan, c. 1927

Stan lived in Dallas, Oregon, for many years where he worked as a machinist and played guitar in professional bands, according to the obit. He moved to Clarkston, Washington, in the early 1970s and worked for Omark (Blount, ATK, now Avista), a sporting goods manufacturer, as a draftsman. When he retired in 1987, he was superintendent of the drafting department. I think he also taught drafting at the local college.

Occasionally Stan would drive to Orofino and stop in at our house. He never stayed more than an hour or two. Daddy would invite him to stay to dinner, but Stan would quietly say, “No, I have to get back for a meeting.”

Betty, Aunt Pearl, & Stan at farm - 1944

Stan married Betty Penney in Portland in 1943. My half-sister Harriet said that when she was a student at the University of Oregon in 1952, she spent a weekend with Stan and Betty and had a wonderful time. Betty died in 1958, according to Stan’s obit. A second marriage ended in divorce and wasn’t mentioned.

One day when I was a teen-ager, Stan came with a suit box full of photographs. “Dorothy, I wonder if you’d like to have my mother’s pictures,” he asked, as he handed her the box. We were delighted. He didn’t have children, and he knew that these photos would just be tossed if he didn’t gift them where they would be appreciated. As I wrote these posts, I have blessed him, knowing that so many of the Sanders’ photos came to my collection through him.

Perhaps I wouldn’t have attended the funeral except that Harriet called and said that she and my other sister, Joni, were going and would I join them. I did, and I was impressed that Stan had found a family through that Baptist congregation. Later, an acquaintance told me that she had played pinochle with Stan. He had friends who loved him and had taken care of the arrangements when he passed. KW