Near the start of the last month of her life, Lauree sent this email — subject line: "My Situation" — to her BCC neighbors:
“Many of you know or have asked how l am. Curious to try to answer, but l'm happy to try or to chat about it. So feel free to ask. There's no secret, including that I really don't know myself. ... I'm happy to think with others about it. ... you'll see gatherings in the second floor common space — often of members of groups I've been a part of — people who know this is likely our last meeting. How do friends say goodbye? We're working on that. Feel free to join us.”
With Lauree's passing, BCC has lost a member of its first generation. But, ever the teacher and sharer, she made the moment her own and invited us to accompany her on her journey. It was a profoundly personal choice, yet one that she invited her community to witness and participate in.
When the time came, Lauree decided to follow her body's natural urge to transition to a peaceful end and stopped eating and drinking. She stayed in her studio apartment at BCC, visited by hospice care, surrounded by her sons Joel and Jonathan, their families, and her BCC neighbors and friends. When her door was open, visitors were always welcome.
During her last week, family and friends gathered around her bed to sing some of her favorite hymns and peace movement songs that she had been singing from her years of church and youth ministry work with Church of the Brethren. She later earned an MA and PhD from the University of Chicago's Divinity School and spent many years teaching Old Testament and Feminist Theology.
Lauree's obituary captures more details of Lauree's large personality and her vigorous, generous life, her love of the soil and nature, and her desire to engage with the issues of her time in conversation. These passages resonated:
She taught thought-provoking classes, and was less interested in conveying information or ideas than in engaging people in thinking and conversing ...
She loved and inspired spirited, warm discussions, often around her dinner table — conversations that engaged who we are and how we live. She loved bringing people together, big hugs, and encouraging “good trouble.”
The BCC community gathered a few weeks after her passing in our common dining room to hold a Gathering, a ritual of remembrance crafted by our Community Well-Being Circle. We sat in a Quaker-style Listening Circle and went around the room sharing memories, stories, and impressions of Lauree, being moved to speech or silence as each of us needed.
The Community Well-Being circle laid out a table of mementos for the Gathering.
Dina remembered her first meeting with Lauree at an early, pre-pandemic BCC gathering. As they sat down to eat, Lauree asked her, with a smile on her face, "Are you making good trouble?" It's one of those opening lines you don't forget.
I knew Lauree as a constant presence at our Community Conversations, some of which she led. She loved spirited conversation and getting down to it. She also had a strong, unshakable belief in the Bull City Commons community; after every Community Conversation, she thanked the group for its honesty, for sharing its opinions, and for its openness. I think she saw this community being made one conversation at a time, and it was her privilege and pleasure to be there when they happened.
Her son Joel shared that she was asked by someone if there was anything else she wanted to say in saying goodbye. Her response was that she had been saying all along the things that she wanted to say.
The closing lines of Lauree's email to the community were these:
"Meantime, family, for you are a wonderful part of my family — hugs and keep making trouble; l love you. Lauree"
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