June Wright Rideout

June Rideout gave gifts to many people over her 92 years. Over the course of her 50 years as a teacher, she helped children develop skills that in turn helped them navigate life. In the last half of her time as a teacher, she specialized in educating deaf children, helping them communicate and gain the confidence to succeed.

At home, she was a friend to many, capable of providing a laugh needed during hard times, or the rare gift of a good listener. She was a wife who enjoyed adventures, making new friends, and building a home that was open to everyone at any time. She had faith both in people and in God. She was a mom who encouraged self-reliance but was there with advice or a hug when needed.

As a gardener, mom could make plants grow strong and beautiful. Her prized fig, which dad bought for her at a garage sale when they were a young couple, will live on in my sunroom in Oregon. He bought that pot because she liked its design, though it contained only dry dirt. A few days later, he noticed a little sprout and nursed it back to life, much to mom’s delight. Though dad has been gone more than 20 years, mom kept that fig by her reading chair, and now it will live near mine.

What I’m trying to say, with as much objectivity as this difficult time allows, is that her life was full. It was accomplished. It was meaningful. It built and thrived on the community and fellowship of you, her friends.

If you’ll allow, I’ll leave you with a personal story of June as a young mother. On frequent family road trips, she didn’t hand me a game or recording or some other means to silence me. She engaged and included me in the family conversation through stories and verbal puzzles. The one I remember most was “Snug McPug, the bug that lived under a rug.” My mom would say that first line and then add in a starting situation for Snug. Then I would follow and continue the journey. We’d go back and forth until the story reached a fun ending or got too silly (often the case). Either way it was a laugh and sparked creativity. At the time, I thought she was just playing to stave off the boredom of the miles. But in retrospect (and from asking her about it years later) I learned that she used games to understand my language development, creativity, storytelling, and grammar. She was a teacher, and the classroom was wherever and whatever she had available to engage a student, even when that student was her daughter.

The final gift from June is this: It’s a reminder to see life for the brief journey that it is, and to spend it doing what you love, with whom you love, enjoying fellowship, creativity, and faith while being true to your calling.

I hope you remember her with joy.