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On January 2, 2022, two days shy of her 75th birthday, former Betty Crocker Homemaker of Tomorrow award winner Linda Gordon concluded a 14-month battle with a Stage IV lung cancer diagnosis and palliative care after voluntarily ending chemotherapy, which was harming her more than helping.
She was brave but not fearless, at peace but scared, faithful but uncertain. She questioned if she was good enough to enter Heaven, which was as true to her nature as her unabating mothering of her two sons, Andy and Chad, who were mildly disappointed to recently learn that the highlight of her life had nothing to do with them but was the time legendary two-time Heisman Award recipient Archie Griffin made an impromptu visit to “his biggest fan” at her workplace.
Archie spent 30 minutes talking with her, giving her his autograph, and listening to her tell him about how she and her husband had sold a steer to buy two 1974 Rose Bowl tour packages to watch him and the Buckeyes defeat USC, 42-21. [Their kids stayed with their grandma that week, receiving only conciliatory souvenirs without an ounce of expressed regret to this day—which seems to be final. You won that one, Mom!]
This surpassed even the time that she, joined by her brother Dusty, met Willie Nelson in a private meet-and-greet before his 1990 Ohio State Fair concert. When the tour bus doors opened and he emerged like a scruffy angel through a cloud of smoke, she was so awestruck that all she could manage to say was, “Hi, Mr. Nelson. I’m Linda. Thank you for Farm Aid!” He nodded, drawling, “My pleasure. I’m Willie.”
An avid reader of Abraham Lincoln bios and Civil War history, countless excursions to historical sites, battlefields and presidential homes brought books to life for her. After a visit to LBJ’s Texas ranch, where the former president’s wife Lady Bird still lived, she sent a note to the First Lady to thank her for opening her home to the public. Some weeks later, an unexpected handwritten note from Lady Bird herself arrived, delighting her beyond belief—a priceless personal treasure.
She loved nature’s beauty and simplicity, documented by hundreds of photos of flowers, trees, landscapes, clouds, and sunsets. No birds, though—she was terrified of birds; however, she was very excited by every cardinal, hawk, or American Bald Eagle sighting.
She also had an incredible knack for finding arrowheads while walking through freshly tilled soil on the farm on County Road 169. Sometimes she would ride on the John Deere seed planter’s running board, keeping an eagle-eyed lookout for them. It was not uncommon for her to spot one, hop off, and circle until she located it, adding yet another to her collection.
While the small bungalow home on Main Street bookended her life—first and final years—the farm was the site and source of her life’s most significant moments and memories as a happy little farm girl. Selling it was her biggest regret and, by her own volition, the dumbest thing she ever did. She couldn’t even bring herself to drive by it in the years afterward. It was an action that can serve as a cautionary tale to all on the consequences of irrational, hasty decisions.
One attribute of both homesteads was that each had huge lilac bushes, which she loved. The sweetness of a lilac candle and the gravelly voice of her favorite (and “so good-looking”) singer, Kris Kristofferson, filled the air in her final days. Although she couldn’t hear the music—anything for that matter, deafness a side effect of chemo not given the significance it is due—the music played on.
For nearly 30 years, until her delayed retirement (Thanks, Bernie Madoff!) six years ago, she made a ridiculous daily commute to Columbus, where she worked as an underpaid, arguably underappreciated legal secretary for some personally respected attorneys, and one that she described through frustrated tears as “that m***********” on multiple occasions. [She would be furious for relating that, but it gives us the chance to finally speak up on her behalf, because she was just too reserved and dignified to do it herself. It may also explain why she laughed so hard whenever she watched Melissa McCarthy in “The Heat.”]
In Cardington, she had worked at the Tom Ray and Howard Hall law offices, Cardington Locker, and had her first job at Smiley’s Grocery. Her least favorite job was that of cook, taking us back to that Betty Crocker Homemaker of Tomorrow award.
She made no bones about disliking being a homemaker and performing housework. In retrospect, she likely worked outside the home not for the income, but to get out of the house. The joke was on her, because the obligation and necessity was still there when she got home. Her compromise was a lot of potato soup, goulash, chili, and meats covered in brown gravy, all in quantities that could be reheated over several days.
Whenever we could complain—often—she would remind us that she had won the Betty Crocker award, so she couldn’t be a bad cook. Only recently did we learn that the award was given based upon results of a written test, not applied skills, which explains a lot.
As it turns out, she was a very good cook and always overdid it with homecooked meals and excessive relish trays when we returned home. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe sometimes we just do things better when done on our own terms.
She was an excellent mom as moms go. As kids, she rubbed our backs in comfort and reassurance as we barfed in illness, even though our retching sounds made her violently gag. She bandaged cuts and wrapped our bleeding wounds but lectured all the way to the hospital. She suffered third degree grease burns and lifetime scars to her hand, in addition to setting the kitchen ablaze fixing fried chicken. She saved us countless times from death—from suffocating in a wagon of shelled corn, mutilation in an auger, but most often for talking back to our dad. [And thank God for her mom, our grandma, who spared us the same fate at Mom’s hands when she reached the brink.] She corrected us when we were wrong. She defended, applauded, assisted, nurtured, and encouraged us. She made us better children and men. We, like many, are better for having loved her and being loved in return.
She made huge sacrifices. Setbacks, tears, sadness and regret were as much a part of her life as the laughter, joy and love. Despite it all, she was an incredibly strong, resilient, loving, caring, amusing, polite, sympathetic, compassionate, generous, emotional, friendly and forgiving woman, mother, wife, daughter, grandma, sister, aunt, cousin, and friend.
Her legacy and memory lives on in the hearts of many—her sons Andy, Chad and his wife Shannon; grandsons Ben and Nick; brother Dusty Snyder and Kathy Winch; Howard and Cindy Gordon; former sisters-in-law Inez Crowe, Shirleen Gordon, Rose Gordon, and Joann Vanhoose; nieces, nephews, and many friends.
She was a member of Jenkins-Vaughan Post 97 American Legion Ladies Auxiliary, Order of the Eastern Star of Ohio, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church and the “Bunco Girls.” She could have done more but was happy being a homebody, which is not the same as a homemaker.
For those wondering why there was no service, she did not want one. In the spring, her ashes will be privately interred alongside her parents, Bill and Maxine Snyder, in
Glendale Cemetery and scattered in the woods of the old farm. These were her wishes.
For the benefit of friends and family to remember her, a casual celebration of her life will take place later this year in Cardington’s American Legion Park. Meanwhile, those wishing to share memories or condolences may do so at www.gompffh.com.
Her family offers their gratitude to St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Pastor Steve Dennis, the community at large, countless friends, and people near and far for the friendship, prayers, assistance, encouragement, and support you provided her and us. Also, special thanks to Mayor Susie Peyton and Gus, the police department, and village employees for organizing a search party for Luke, her beloved dog, when he wandered off one recent, frigid day. You likely spared her from dying of a broken heart. [Luke now lives with her brother Dusty, enjoying country life.]
To paraphrase a song she didn’t like, ‘It's the laughter we’ll remember, when we remember the way she was.’
Gompf Funeral Service of Cardington is honored to have been chosen to assist the Gordon family with Linda's final wishes.
Those wishing to share a memory of Linda or to express a condolence to the Gordon family may do so by visiting www.gompffh.com.