Sally Ann Cassady

In death as in life, Sally Ann Cassady wasn’t going to leave the party one moment too soon. There was nothing she loved more than having her family together, playing cards, making a puzzle, or just telling old stories and laughing until our sides hurt. No matter that her husband, Don, would be out in the driveway, laying on the horn to hurry her along. She’d just say exasperatedly, “For God’s Sake… that man!” and continue not to hear her cue to leave until she was good and ready. When she departed this life on January 8, 2024, her family rejoiced that Don doesn’t have to wait for her anymore and that Sally enjoyed every minute of her wonderful life.

Born September 26, 1934 and raised in Newton, Iowa by her parents Jim and Alice Ross, Sally met the (always early) love of her life, Don Cassady, when she was a student at Marycrest College and he was attending St. Ambrose University, both in Davenport, IA. They met at a dance mixer and were married January 29, 1955… when she finally arrived at the church, 30 minutes late for her own ceremony. Together, they built a beautiful family, no matter where life took them. Daughter Debbie was born in Jackson and expanded their family to three. Son Patrick followed just 18 months later, while living on a naval base in San Diego – and after Sally drove herself to the hospital because Don was out to sea. Their youngest son, Tim, arrived 6 years later… and only after Don finished painting the kitchen as promised would Sally accept a ride to the hospital. Their early years were some of her favorites; when she recounted any of those times together, the stories always included the commentary, “Well, we just had so much fun!” She could make a home anywhere and with anything. In one of their first homes, Debbie slept in a dresser drawer, and they shared a TV one week a month with friends. They only had two place settings for dinner – so when they had their friends over, they just took turns eating, and always had a grand time.

Of course, the highlight of these dinners wasn’t the cooking, which was not Sally’s strongest suit. Her favorite recipe was arguably reservations. Over the years, she developed a reputation for developing “Beanie Burgers”, serving liver and onions, livening up macaroni and cheese with peas, and loading everything with nuts (which only she liked). She worked hard on her traditional oyster dressing, but Thanksgiving could be an adventure, including the year she burned the Thanksgiving turkey so badly, pizza had to be ordered. She could serve a good dessert though, and Crème de Menthe over ice cream was a favorite. Her most successful culinary claim to fame was Grandma’s Cinnamon Toast, which every grandchild loved and remembers fondly – and at least one even played hooky from school to have, but mostly because it meant time with Grandma Sally.

A good cook knows it’s not what’s on the table that matters, it’s who’s in the chairs. While Sally’s strength wasn’t in what she put on the plate, she excelled at the joy she brought to those gathered to enjoy it. Everyone loved to be around her, no matter their age. From her daughter joining Girl Scouts just to have her as her leader, to her grandson crying because he didn’t live close enough, and granddaughters who would rollerblade over to her house after school, Sally had no shortage of people who loved to spend time with her. She was a willing participant in just about anything and always said yes to an invitation. She knew how to have a good time and never wanted to miss out on any opportunity to live life to its fullest. Couldn’t find her in a crowd? She was always the one having the most fun. All you had to do was listen for the best, most enthusiastic, contagious laugh in the room. Everyone knew that laugh and she never held back from using it to its full capacity, as often as she could. She could pull the laughter out of others too – whether playing practical jokes with Don, or using one of her classic one-liners, Sally’s wit was well-known.

She could also be quickly identified in church, where her belief that songs should be sung at fast tempo and that not every verse was necessary, coupled with her belief that there was nothing worse than a quiet church, led to very loud, fast-paced renditions of every song and wrapping up well ahead of the choir. But church seemed to be the only place where every verse wasn’t necessary – when playing Encore or singing Christmas carols, even if only a few lines were required, you couldn’t stop Sally until she’d loudly and proudly belted out every word! Her great-grandchildren lovingly called her Gigi and with them, her biggest hit was Chickery Chick, which she sung hundreds of times, and which she always ended with “I love you [insert name of child she was singing to]; this is Gigi!”

In addition to her confident singing skills, Sally also had the rare gift of making everyone feel that what they had to say was the most important and interesting thing she’d ever heard. She genuinely loved to learn about people, where they were from, what their ambitions were. Every grandchild has a memory of how their story, their made-up song, or their craft was dearly cherished by Grandma Sally. She was always the loudest cheer in the audience and the most likely to defend any performance. Many trinkets were carefully tucked away or proudly displayed because Sally knew those little gifts were made with great love. Sally wasn’t one for saying she loved you… but she always showed you and when she lovingly chastised, “You little shits”, no one ever doubted how much we meant to her.

She was frugal with more than her words of affection. “Save a Cent Sal” had a reputation for watering down ketchup, soup, and shampoo to make it last longer. Expiration dates were just “silly suggestions” that carried no meaning for her. She was shocked when her family couldn’t believe that she’d spray painted the Thanksgiving gourds gold to carry them through the Christmas season. And she always, always had her tiny mug of black coffee, often saved from the day before. When offered fresh, she insisted it was fine and just needed reheating. Every birthday or Christmas required extra time as Sally painstakingly peeled off the Scotch tape to save the wrapping paper. Although she caught lots of grief in later years for her storied frugality, it was this discipline that made private school for all her children possible. Although everyone gave her a hard time leading her to respond with “Come on now, you guys…”, the laughter was matched only by the gratitude for the life these habits and hard work afforded.

Sally’s discipline and fierce determination were ever-present, learned at an early age when she lost the use of her right arm to polio. She relearned how to write using her left hand and although she had to make many accommodations - from driving, to putting on her earrings, to getting dressed - she never made excuses or allowed it to get in the way of anything she wanted to do… except for shuffling cards, which she insisted polio forced her to do face-up. She figured out how to make anything work, and she expected the same of others. There was no wallowing; she’d say “Here here now, that’s enough of that” and expect that you pull up your britches and get on with it, with which it was hard to argue because she was already doing the same, every day of her life. She was strong and determined and never let anything get in her way and she taught her family the same. During her oldest grandson’s first bar fight, when he was 4 years old, another child tried to push him off a game in an English pub. From across the pub, Grandma Sally shouted, “Fight back! Don’t let him do that to you! Fight! Fight!”

Sally fought hard herself – as she aged and her body started letting her down, she would never mention that she wasn’t feeling well until the party was over and there was no more fun to be had – then off to the Emergency Room we’d go. She also never backed down from a fight over politics – if you were unwise enough to bring it up and could be heard over the constant background of Rush Limbaugh, Mark Levin, or FOX News, which in later years was blaring at max volume. But what made Sally so special is that some of her best friends had the most diametrically opposed political views. She could have a good debate and still end the day laughing hysterically and telling her friends, “I love you, even though you’re a Democrat.” She was always able to get her position on anything across with certitude and often through humor.

Just as memorable as her sassiness was the classiness with which she always presented herself. Sally was a lady and would never dream of being seen without “putting on her face”. She loved her standing weekly appointments at the hair salon and having her nails painted to perfection – almost always choosing the same color no matter how many choices she had. She was always totally put together and daintily tucked her ever-present Kleenex in the rolled up cuff of her top so as to always have it at the ready. Her Kleenex came in handy not just for that ever-present drip, but also in the many times she was the first to be there to help her family get through their hardest times. She knew that life could deal tough hands, and when it did, she made sure to be there to walk through it with you.

Sally was loyal not only to her family, but also to the Michigan State Spartans, cheering on their football and basketball teams for decades. She loved a good game of Euchre, 98, trivia, and board games and could pull every generation together to laugh around the card table. She traveled extensively, declaring Budapest her favorite city in the world, and she cherished years spent in Pinehurst, North Carolina and spending summers on Morrison Lake. She loved to learn and if she found anything printed in her vicinity, she had to study every word. She was a master interrogator and queen of the “20 questions”; no single response was acceptable. She wanted to know ALL the details. Sometimes repeated twice. She was stubborn to a fault; one favorite memory was when she insisted on ordering the “Spaghatini” – even after everyone tried to convince her the only option was plain old spaghetti. While Sally was big in personality, she was small in stature – and surpassing Grandma Sally in height was a special rite of passage for every grandchild on their way to adulthood. Although she lacked in physical height, she always set a very high bar for the standards she expected and she never held back from letting you know when she was disappointed that you failed to meet them. One of her best qualities was that she would tell you honestly and candidly exactly what she thought so you never had to wonder if you were getting her real opinion. Although she’d offer advice if you asked for it, she usually favored talking through it until you figured it out on your own.

Her greatest loves in life were her husband Don, her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and a glass of wine or a good vodka tonic (which didn’t require anything fancy – “the well was fine”). Sally absolutely loved being a wife, mom, grandmother, and great-grandmother. She took care of everything where the door swung in and Don took care of where the door swung out and together, they supported, loved, and enjoyed each other for nearly 54 years. In recent years, her dearest wish was to spend another day with him. Spending time with her family always brought her the biggest smiles. Throughout her life, her faith has been her constant and carried her through many tough times. It was her faith that led her to say, “Don’t sweat the small stuff. Life rolls on. Take what you get and find the bright side of all situations.”

As we mourn the loss of this amazing mom, grandma, Gigi, sister, and friend, our bright side is what she’s left behind. Her family is forever grateful for her love, her example, and her fierce determination. We’re glad she taught us how to have fun, how to handle life’s curveballs, and how to find the humor in almost anything. Above all, we’re so blessed that she found Grandad and built a life of love and faith that we’ll do our best to emulate and carry on. We know we’ll be with her again one day - as she would say - “Lord willing and the creek don’t rise!”

Until then, her life is celebrated by sons Patrick (Deborah) Cassady, Timothy (Teresa) Cassady; daughter Deborah Sydlowski; 10 grandchildren Sarah Sydlowski; Katherine (Chris) Sikora, Thomas (Christen) Cassady, Patrick (Aliena) Cassady, Erin (Henry) Eichman, Cara (Andrew) Fairbanks, Mary, Brigid, Maggie, and Mike Cassady; 11 great-grand-children Charlie, Annie, Ben Sikora; Kieran and Maeve Cassady; Owen and Max Eichman; Cillian and Kamilla Cassady; Nora and Linus Fairbanks; sister Sue Wilkinson; brother Joe Ross.

We rejoice that she joins those who have gone before her: her husband, Don Cassady; granddaughter Molly Kate Cassady; brothers Micheal (Lettie, Gerry) Ross, Patrick (Cheryll) Ross; brother-in-law Dick Wilkinson; and parents Jim and Alice Ross.

We will have to let go of having you by our side, holding your hand, talking face-to-face. But we will never let go of loving you, remembering you, honoring you, missing you…

In recognition of the high priority Sally (and Don) placed on education, donations in Sally’s memory may be made to:

John Carroll University, 1 John Carroll Blvd, University Heights, OH 44118

Marquette University, 1250 W. Wisconsin Avenue, Milwaukee, OH 53233

St. Thomas Aquinas School, 915 Alton Road, East Lansing, MI 48823

Sally’s family will be honoring her life in private services. Online condolences may be made at www.greastlansing.com.