Your Memorial Service in the Angwin church the other day was really great. You would have been pleased with the turnout. They said almost 1,000 people. And of course, 16 fire trucks were lined up outside. Even the big tanker. Some from as far away as Carneros. You made a lot of friends in 30 years as a Pope Valley volunteer firewoman.

And the Angwin ambulances were there, too, vehicles you rode in hundreds of times during your 20 years as a medical volunteer.

Lyle McCoy said that when a call came in to help someone in an automobile accident or having a heart attack, and he heard "Rescue #20 responding" that someone was lucky to have Mrs. Kirkpatrick coming. You being a nurse and all.

Steven Hamilton, the neighbor boy whom you and Brad took under your wing, preached the sermon. He is now a minister and he used all his best words for the kindly woman of his growing up years. Another near neighbor, John Tully, observed that the sermon was all about service and love, about someone who lived that way all her life. "Service and love," he repeated.

Steven remembered that when he reached 18, you suggested that he could now become a volunteer fireman, and when he hesitated, you said, "Well, Steven, you can do something good or you can sit home selfish when someone needs you." So he joined. He didn't really have a chance, did he?

A good friend of yours said you and Brad had a working agreement. He could run the garage. You could run Pope Valley.

Linda Weatherwax read a testimonial for your daughter who had so many good things to say about her mother, you would have chided her. But people in the audience smiled and nodded, knowing that in your long sickness, Kaye wrapped you in her love. Well, guess where she learned that.

Kaye said that the family really appreciates what the Angwin group, Unlimited Love, did for you, remodelling the bathroom for wheelchair access. Jus payback time, Elgie.

Your family had filled tables in the church lobby with pictures of you with Brad and family, a portrait of you as a beautiful young woman, your thimble collection. You know the drill. They had hung your uniform and helmet on a coat rack. Kinda off by itself. Clean and tidy. A bit worn.

The family said that you would have wanted the service to end in a party at the Pope Valley fire house, across from home. So hundreds of cars went down the hill and people filled the tables. Hey, Elgie, more people than at the Pope Valley Turkey Shoot. The food was good. The watermelon delicious. The pop was ice cold.

There was a lot of friendship going on. In a lull in the conversation, I thought I heard a familiar voice and a burst of laughter. I was startled at first, and then I thought, well, why not. After all, it was your party