Barbara Fern Spooner

From Matt Spooner, Barbara’s son

When I think about Mom, I think about FOOD. In particular…

5-gallon tubs of ice cream. Mom would convert the contents of those tubs into countless milkshakes for me, Rachel, Gabe, and all of our friends.

Grocery bags overflowing with Butterfingers, Snickers, and Mr. Goodbars. Raley’s would frequently sell candy bars at .25 a pop, and that kind of deal was too good for Mom to pass up. (On a related note, my nickname in 4th Grade was “Tank.” I wish I was joking about that.)

Meticulously labeled platters and bowls. Mom would set them out days before a family gathering at our home in order to assure that every detail was accounted for.

The marathon Bel Air run. Mom would spend ~15 minutes shopping…and she’d proceed to spend another 2-3 hours kibbitzing with all of her buddies in the Produce section, at the Deli counter, and at the Cashier area.

Fresh fries. According to Mom, anything less from the McDonald’s drive-thru was unacceptable.

The perfect mandelbread. Soft, yet structured. Chocolatey, but not overly rich. Buttery, yet made without any butter. It was pure Jewish soul food artistry, courtesy of Mom.

When I think about Mom, I think about CREATIVITY. In particular…

Endless stacks of original artwork - watercolors, collages, acrylics. Mom did it all, and her unique pieces lovingly adorned the walls of her family members’ and friends’ homes.

My senior prom, when Mom took SEVENTEEN rolls of film of me, Rach, and our friends. That must be a world record, right?

Black and white, which was Mom’s official color scheme for every occasion. Bathroom remodel? Black and white. B’nai Mitzvah party? Black and white. Wedding reception? You already know.

Spring Sing 2001, when Mom took HUNDREDS of photos of me performing sketch comedy on stage at Arthur Ashe Stadium at UCLA. Oddly enough, Mom took 1 photo at that show that wasn’t of me. It was a picture of a cute co-ed in a hot pink dress who performed a duet of “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.” Mom didn’t know who that attractive young woman was - she just knew that she liked her. I ended up meeting that cute co-ed on a blind date in 2007, and we’ve been married for nearly 14 years.

When I think about Mom, I think about EMOTIONS. In particular…

How nothing was funnier to her than a stubbed toe or a smashed shinbone. If you temporarily injured yourself in a minor way, that was the pinnacle of comedy for Mom.

Always needing to apologize to Mom first…and then watching her crumble and apologize profusely to you shortly thereafter.

Occasionally needing to hoof it home after Mom kicked you out of the car for giving her too much lip.

Mom frequently getting into it with parents from opposing teams at our baseball games.

How Mom created an entire culture around the photos on our refrigerator. If you “made the fridge," you were definitely one of her favorites.

When I think about Mom, I think about MUSIC. In particular…

Rocking out to James Brown’s Greatest Hits with all of my friends in the Astro van on the way to our high school dances.

Rapping to "Ain't Nothing But a G Thang" on the way to my middle school basketball games. I was a spot-on SnoopDogg, and she was a convincing Dr. Dre.

Helping our family fall in love with musical theatre, especially West Side Story, Big River, and Rent.

When I think about Mom, I think about MEMORY. In particular…

Somehow convincing Mom that it was safe to come home after she wandered into her neighbor’s home at 2:30am at some point near the end of 2020.

Sleeping on the floor of Mom and Dad's upstairs living room for several weeks in early 2021 to ensure that Mom didn't sneak out at night.

Mom having brief moments of realizing her rapidly-declining mental health the day before she moved into her Memory Care facility. She knew what was happening to her, and she was so so scared.

Walking over to visit Mom at her Memory Care facility during Sami's swim team practices, and how she quickly became the most popular person within the entire facility.

Mom’s ability to pull every lyric from every Motown song I played for her in the backyard of her Board and Care, despite the fact that she wasn’t able to hold a coherent conversation at that point.

When I think about Mom, I think about FAMILY. In particular…

My Grandma Shirley and Papa Archie. Mom relished having her parents only a mile away from us in Sacramento. She adored them…and for good reason. They were the quintessential couple, and their love was timeless.

My Uncle Eddie. Mom used to absolutely tear-up the dance floor with him. They were kindred spirits.

My Uncle Mike. He passed away far too early from Leukemia, and Mom never really recovered from that. Knowing that I’m named after him has always filled me with pride…and a sense of responsibility to live my life in an honorable fashion.

My Auntie Linda. I never experienced her and Mom having anything but love and respect for each other. They set the standard for what a healthy sibling relationship should look like.

My sister. From highlight reels to headshots, Mom did everything she could to help Rach pursue her passions. Mom was Rach’s person, and Rach was Mom’s person…and it was beautiful to watch their love grow and mature throughout the years.

My brother. From the stick-straight dark hair and friendly demeanor, to the fiery beliefs and cutting humor, Mom and Gabe were so incredibly similar. For some reason, that comforts me…especially now that she’s gone.

My wife. Mom was always very protective of me - she felt like I gave too much of myself to other people, and that I didn’t consider my own needs often enough. Well, Mom never had that concern when it came to Juls. Mom was “all in” on Juls from the first moment she met her, and she encouraged me to be my most vulnerable and true self with her. That was the best advice that Mom ever gave me.

My children. Mom’s most cherished role was that of Gigi, the ultimate grandmother. It was an absolute joy to watch Mom interact with my Sami and Emily. She was always fully present…and full of presents. I see Mom in Sami’s kind heart, and in Emily’s outgoing personality. I feel deeply grateful that my children had the opportunity to create so many wonderful and lasting memories with their Gigi.

My dad. Simply put, Mom couldn’t have found a better life partner than Dad. Marriage is a balancing act, and Dad provided the perfect composed counterweight to Mom’s mercurial tendencies. And, as time marched on and as Mom’s needs heightened, something interesting happened: Dad turned into Mom. For example, it would take Dad forever to leave Mom’s Memory Care facility, because Dad spent so much time there that he was practically adopted by the staff and residents. The same thing happened at Mom’s Board and Care facility - Dad became the darling of the folks who worked and lived there, primarily because he visited Mom so often and took such amazing care of her. Dad, what you did for Mom these past few years was nothing short of heroic, and I’m deeply honored to be your son.

And, above anything else, when I think about Mom, I think about LOVE.

From Rachel Spooner, Barbara’s daughter

My mom and I had a special bond.

She was my best friend.

Closest confidante.

Shopping partner.

Personal photographer.

Champion.

Protector.

She was my world.

My heart.

I loved holding her hand and being warmed by her light.

I admired my mom in so many ways. Kindness was one of her superpowers. She connected with a wide variety of people and was skilled at giving compliments and making someone’s day.

I remember going clothes shopping with mom and there was a young mom with a crying child in the dressing room. Without missing a beat, my mom offered to hold and calm the baby so the mom could try something on in the dressing room. I have a million stories like that.

Mom was incredibly artistic and could look at a room and with pencil, paper, and her trusty tape measure she could envision a space that was fully realized with furniture, lighting, pillows and art. Every apartment I lived in had the Barbara Spooner touch.

She even had a knack for taking thrift store pieces and with paint and a little imagination she could breathe life and color into something dull and discarded.

My mom’s personal artwork is among my most treasured possessions. Whether it be her abstract paintings, collages, or portrait they all carry her signature vibrant color palette.

She was an artist. Her greatest masterpiece was her family.

My mom loved being a mom.

Mom and dad first welcomed twins, me and my brother Matt. 18 months later, mom gave birth to my brother Gabe. It was a full house with many happy memories. Cruising around in the Astro minivan bumping James Brown, going to all of Matt and Gabe’s baseball, soccer, football, and basketball games, Broadway Academy recitals, and our annual vacation to Santa Cruz snd Carmel. We were her world. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her children.

I will miss her eyes, warm inviting smile, and her laugh..which by the way…she laughed the hardest at her own jokes. She thought she was totally hilarious.

I will miss her Mandel bread, kugel with the crunchy cornflake topping, chocolate milkshakes, and chocolate chip pancakes. Mom had a sweet tooth!

I will miss the way she would light up around all her grandchildren. She experienced such joy with Sami, River, and Emily. Although her time with my children Jordan and Jacob was short, she made a deep and meaningful impression on their lives. They know who GiGi is.

I will miss the way she would flirt with my husband David and the special connection they shared. She was happy that I found a true partner to spend my life with.

I will miss absolutely everything about you mom. May you rest in peace knowing that you had an indelible impact on my life. I would not be the woman I am today without your unconditional love and support.

Mom…As David and I parent our twins, Jordan and Jacob, we know that you will be watching over us, smiling, laughing, probably taking pictures, and guiding us as a family.

I love you mom.

From Chuck Spooner, Barbara’s husband

Barbara was a girl, and a woman, of many names.

She was born Barbara Fern Vine in Chicago, Illinois, May 8, 1952. And she would be so

angry that I divulged her middle name to the world. She was not fond of that middle name. She

kept it from me for several months when we met and started dating.

Then I asked our brother-in-law, Sid (with Barbara saying, “Don’t’ tell, don’t tell.”). Sid

said, “Chuck, in the forest you have trees and birds and animals and lots of flora and

fauna—including FERNS. And that’s how I learned her middle name.

So…she was Barbara Fern, Barbara, Barb, Babs, Babsie. Her Hebrew name was Basha

Fagel. I always called her Basha, or Bashie, or Bashie Pooh. But there were four names that she

truly cherished.

The first was Mom.

When we married in 1976, she couldn’t wait to be a mom. It wasn’t easy, in fact it was

very difficult, but it finally happened in May 1979 when Rachel and Matt were born. Her

OB/GYN said, don’t worry, you’ll never get pregnant again. Gabe was born 18 months later in

November 1980.

Barbara was a fierce Mom. If she even suspected you did something against her kids,

WATCH OUT! She was “Theater Mom” for Rachel. “Baseball Mom” for Matt and Gabe,

including two seasons coaching T-ball.

Here’s a quick Barbara story: We signed Matt up for T-ball in February 1987. Barbara

and I were having coffee one morning and she said, “You know, they need coaches.”

I said, “Yeah…”

She said, “So?”

I said, “Barb, I can’t do it. My schedule is slammed. I’m working nights, weekends,

holidays. I just can’t do it.”

She said, “Okay, then I’m going to take a team.”

I said, “What? You don’t know anything about coaching baseball.”

She said, “I don’t care. If you’re not going to do it, I’m taking a team.”

I said, “But…but..”

She said, “Look, you always told me about when you played Little League and the things

you saw that weren’t right and that those things would never happen on your watch. Well, this is

your watch, pal. Time to put up or shut up.”

And so, I coached baseball teams for the next nine seasons. It was the best hobby I ever

had.

So, Theater Mom, Baseball Mom, and she was our kids’ #1 fan for soccer, cheerleading,

basketball, golf, football, and on and on. No matter what her kids did, she was ALL IN.

She wasn’t the original “Helicopter Mom,” but she certainly raised the bar.

Another name she loved was Auntie Barb. She was Auntie Barb to Marc and Lisa

Yassinger and showered them with love and attention. Marc grew up and married Lisa Katzman

and Barbara got to be Auntie Barb to Justin, and then Sophia. Lisa Yassinger married Jed Katz

and Taylor and Austen were the next to get the full Auntie Barb experience. Dale Cohen’s

children—Ann, Heidi, and Ross—all called her Auntie Barb. And when Ann married Joe Kerub,

Barbara became Auntie Barb to Sara and Benedeto.

Sadly, the only little one who didn’t experience the Auntie Barb treatment was Chloe

Katz, because Alzheimer’s had overtaken Barbara’s life when Chloe was born. Lisa, I know they

would have been BFFs—Best Friends Forever.

You have to understand what it meant to be Auntie Barb. It meant she was on call, 24/7,

ready at a moment’s notice to be there for all the littles in the family. It was what she lived for.

There is another name she enjoyed: Miss Barbara. That began when we moved into our

condo complex in February 2014. Barbara met Maya Ruiz, April & Norman’s daughter, and it

was love at first sight. As a toddler, Maya would come knock on our front door, holding her

grandmother’s hand. She would ask if Miss Barbara was home, and she’d come in to play in our

family room upstairs, or maybe do an art project, or just hang out.

This spread to Maya’s brother Jaxen, then to Essen & Steve Koen’s children (Hailey,

Noah, and Ethan), then to Julie & Ryan Thigpen’s kids (Hazel, Jake, and Luke).

Whenever Barbara stepped outside—to go to the mailbox, or just take a walk—children

would come running to get their hugs from Miss Barbara.

Just last month, mid-January, Linda came to visit, to see Barbara and celebrate Jacob &

Jordan’s 3 rd birthday. We were coming home one evening, pulled into my garage and got out of

the car. We turned to see four or five kids peering into the garage, big happy smiles on their

faces. It turns out they thought Linda was Barbara. They thought I was bringing Miss Barbara

home. They were ready to collect their hugs.

Now we come to the name that really lit up her life: Gigi. She wanted her grandchildren

to call her Gigi.

Matt & Julie married in June 2010, and when we learned in 2012 that Julie was pregnant,

it wasn’t a question of IF we would move to Southern California, it was a question of WHEN.

We sold our home in Carmichael and made the move in December 2013, when Samantha was 14

months old.

Barbara was Gigi, I was Papa, and together we were GigiPapa—one word. We became

the go-to babysitters, always ready at the drop of a phone call to be on duty.

Gigi always showed up with two things in hand: a picnic basket of food—bread, peanut

butter & jelly, cheese, and fruit, because she insisted on bringing our own lunch—and her camera

case. The first order of business upon arrival was to get out the camera and begin taking pictures.

I think our Sami was the most photographed child in all of Orange County. Then Steve Jobs gave

us the iPhone with a built-in camera and Barbara doubled down. Photos, videos with sound! She

was in heaven.

Gabe & Kayli’s son River was born in March 2015, and then Julie gave birth to Emily in

July of that year. Sami, Emily, River—Gigi wanted to be with them every possible moment,

picnic basket, camera, and iPhone in hand, recording every little step they took. If this was a

slide show, you would be here for a VERY long time.

Finally, Rachel & David brought Jordan & Jacob into our family in January 2021.

Though Gigi’s illness had advanced, she was present enough to be with them, to know they were

hers, and to enjoy them crawling onto her lap—as late as just two weeks ago—giving her hugs

and kisses and making her smile.

My daughter Kim up in Oregon and her children, Elyssia, Travis, Cole, and Logan were

hard for Barbara to get her hands on. But I remember Kim bringing Elyssia and Travis to visit us

in Carmichael, and I remember staying at the Pony Soldier Inn in Gresham, Oregon, and Barbara

insisting that Travis come stay with us to swim in the pool, enjoy the spa, and just hang out.

And my daughter Cheryl down in Costa Rica and her children, Mason, Collin, and

Kamille, were also hard for Barbara to reach. But I remember Kamille staying with us in Aliso

Viejo for a couple of days, which gave Barbara a golden opportunity. We went to The Shops at

Mission Viejo and Barbara told me, “Okay, get lost. We’ll meet you in the food court in a couple

of hours.” And off she went with Kamille to shop for outfits.

She simply loved being Gigi.

And there you have it: Mom, Auntie Barb, Miss Barbara, and Gigi. Do you notice a

pattern here? It was all about Kids! Her kids, her nieces and nephews, cousins, grandchildren,

and all the kids in our little corner of Aliso Viejo. She may be gone, but she is certainly not

forgotten.

I want to close with a personal note and a few heartfelt Thank Yous.

First, to Josie Teehankee and the staff at Alliance Senior Living, especially Esmeralda

Morales. Barbara loved Esmie and Esmie adopted Barbara. And now, our family has adopted

Esmie. Barbara couldn’t have been in more loving hands.

Second, to Kathy & Rob DeLiema for all the love and support they’ve heaped on us—me

in particular. I am always invited to their home for holidays—Chanukah, Passover, the High

Holy Days—and they always send me home with food for a week. Kathy & Rob, thank you from

the bottom of my heart.

Third, to my sister-in-law Linda. In addition to flying down from Sacramento to visit,

Linda would always remind me: “Call me when you are going to be with Barbara.” Barb & I

would call at least once a week and the amazing thing was Barbara always recognized Linda’s

voice. Linda would say, “Hi, Barb.” And Barbara would say, “Hi, Lin.” On days when she wasn’t

quite sure who I was, she remembered Linda’s voice. Linda, thank you for being a constant spark

in Barbara’s memory.

Finally, to our three children—Matt, Rachel, and Gabe. I could speak for an hour of all

the support you’ve given me these past three years. Collectively, you have been my rock, the

anchor that kept me from flying off the planet. Whatever Barbara and I did or didn’t do in our

life together, we raised three very special human beings.

I’ll close with this: There is a poet (can’t recall the name) who said: “We are spiritual

beings having a brief physical experience.”

I want to thank everyone for coming today to honor Barbara and see her on to the next

experience of her spiritual being.