By Dixon Bledsoe
This is a column I knew I’d have to write someday about a beautiful woman. I had hoped it would be years away. In fact, she was so strong I just assumed she might have to write a column about me instead.
Carol Boedigheimer McDonald passed away March 28 after an incredibly hard-fought battle with pancreatic cancer. Her oncologist told her that everyone he had diagnosed with this particular killer in 2009 was already gone. To last four and a half years after being diagnosed with a disease that has a 5 percent survival rate past five years is a testament to her resolve to live life to the fullest.
But this column is not about her death. It is about her life and it was a good one. People often make jokes about their mother-in-laws. After becoming mine in 1982, there was no fodder for jokes other than some teasing borne of love.
I teased her a lot about her cooking. For everyone who sat at her table to a gourmet feast or a world-class pumpkin chiffon or butterscotch pie, it was an epicurean delight. Carol might remark that the crust was a little dry, or the Chicken Divan was a bit runny. We laughed every time.
She was a very good businesswoman, running Boedie’s Drive-In for years. It was highly respected for fresh, made to order food, especially the burgers, tacos, and pressure-cooked chicken that just happen to come out fast. I would order the “garden fresh salad,” which was actually a tray of shredded lettuce alone.
We laughed each time. A lot of young people got their feet wet in the business world with Carol at the helm. She treated her charges as she would want other adults to treat her four kids: Lisa, Scott, Dina and Todd. They respected her tremendously, and so many of them came to celebrate her life April 5 at the Oregon Garden.
Her artistic talent manifested in so many different mediums. Carol made quilts for virtually every child that came into her extended family and they were simply gorgeous.
What was a beautiful thing is that a lot of them brought the quilts to her final celebration. Each had the corner rolled up so that onlookers could see her dedication to the child, grandchild, niece and nephew.
Her birthday cakes were professional, personal and perfect. Carol’s paintings were exceptional, especially given that she didn’t paint a lot. She was busy raising nice kids and spoiling restless grandkids with her loving husband of 26 years, Jim, at her side, or tending to an amazing garden that she designed.
Taking art classes with her granddaughter, Ally, was a special time for both of them, as were the many instances she spent with her other grandkids, Briana and her fiancée’ Ethan, Trevor, Tyler, Shannen and Sharisse. She was a grandma who was at the pinnacle of her game. There was always a card for every birthday, every graduation, and every major holiday. She was imminently fair and genuine with her time and affection.
We shared a love of sports, kids, and her beautiful daughter Lisa who is my wife of 31 years. I teased when her Notre Dame Irish lost. I feigned anguish but did a happy dance inside. She saw right through it.
She loved a lot of things. Birds in her garden made her happy, and while she was on hospice care at the lovely Silverton home she designed for she and Jim, her daughter Lisa cleared away furniture so Carol could view the deck plants and humming bird feeders. Fortunately she could not see the deer feasting on her flowers.
Carol had a unique and loving relationship with her six siblings and their spouses. The Seifer family frequently gathered on Wednesdays for lunch and conversation.
The oldest daughter of the late Al and Hilda Seifer, Carol was the perfect big sister – loving, fair, fun, and responsible in her duties. She was especially fond of the beach trips with her four sisters.
Because of our mutual love of sports, I am reminded of all the coaches who lost the big game and said, “This one hurt.” Such trivia pales in comparison to losing a remarkable woman like Carol McDonald. But looking through the eyes of love, the pain is a bit more bearable.
