Charlie’s late wife Lynn: Her devotion was like the faith of a bird that sings while it is still dark

Below is a letter written by regular moorandmore contributor and longtime South Bend pharmacist Charlie Spiher. He sent it to his many friends after the death of his dear wife Lynn.  He didn’t intend to have it posted but I convinced him that many readers would be able to relate to it or learn from it. At the end of the letter is a list of towns from where Charlie received support and notes of sympathy after Lynn’s passing. It gives us an idea about how missed one person can be — Bill Moor.

From a Lake Michigan sand dune, near Kruse Park, Muskegon, Michigan, early May, 2022:

It’s 48 degrees, windy, damp, unflavored steely water, dismal clouds kiss the tallest cedars.

Little wonder that my dog CiCi and I have the place to ourselves.  Enjoying a brief hiatus from tech — a week with no computer, phone, internet, nor TV is heartwarming and ass freezing. Wearing layers.  And a cashmere sweater.  It’s 25 years old, light grey.

For all of you, please allow a sentiment navigated in the three months since losing my wife Lynn.

My own mother, Florence Spiher (R.I.P., Great Mom, lousy cook) warned me, then a snot-nosed 8-year-old  kid, “You can’t tell how deep a puddle is … until you step in it, now go take a bath.”  Seventy-five years later, she was right.  I had no concept of my ignorance, as a hundred of you, from every corner of the nugget we call planet earth, showered me with kindness.  

Please, stay on course in the rest of your lives; no expression of shared sorrow is amorphous or overlooked.  Exhilaration and appreciation, we learn are soluble when washed in tears.   Don’t stop there, as we are all “next in line.” Lynn was far more important to so many and I remain humbled that we had 32 joyous years together.  Her devotion was the faith of a bird that sings while it is still dark. 

I’m recovering, albeit slowly with a clear conscience and a foggy memory, although I miss her each day. Every day.  No one promised this would be easy.  Damned if it isn’t.

I’m compelled to leave you with a lighter note. If you ever married or had a true “soulmate,” here then is the challenge: How long is a minute? Depends largely on which side of the bathroom door you’re on. 

  Right now, I’ve a need to relieve and Lynn is grinning from ear to precious ear; another galaxy, an infinite universe.

Moral, listen to your mother, have three bathrooms or more, respond with your soul, and renew your kindness to one another. Time becomes nature’s way of keeping everything from happening at once. Random acts of kindness are all we have left. Only love matters.

Peace on, my friends,


If you recognize an address….yes, that is you

Indiana: Hebron, Mishawaka, Kokomo, South Bend, Ft. Wayne, LaPorte, Goshen, Renntown, Chesterton, Bremen, Indianapolis, Fishers

Florida: Ocala, Bradenton, Lake Suzy, Inland Beach, Vero Beach, son of a beach,Titusville, Land Yacht Harbor

Idaho; Hailey

Minnesota: Rochester, St. Paul, Minneapolis, Byron

Maryland: Baltimore, Bethesda

Michigan: Maple City, Stevensville, Grand Haven, Drummond Island, DeTour, Gwinn, Niles, Rochester, Coldwater, Eagle Lake, Edwardsburg, Dexter, Middleville, Midland

Arizona: Green Valley, Madera Canyon, Patagonia, Sonoita, Tucson, Chandler, Surprise, Sun City, North Scottsdale, Prescott

Colorado: Denver

South Carolina: Summerville

North Carolina: Tryon, Durham, Chapel Hill

New York: Briarcliff Manor, Ithaca

Ohio: Greenville, Dublin, Jackson Center

Wisconsin: Amherst, Chandler, Cedarburg, Brooklyn, Mequon, Sturgeon Bay, Sun Prairie

Pennsylvania: Biglerville

Kentucky: Lexington

Texas: North Houston

Illinois: Chicago & suburbs

California: Chico, San Diego

Georgia: Athens

Rhode Island: Westerly

Virginia: Virginia Beach

Maine: Kittery Point

Ireland: County Cavan

United Kingdom: Arundel, Liverpool

France: Paris

New Zealand: Hahei

Poland: G’dańsk, Kraków

Norway: Lillehammer