and slid away peacefully on a bright spring morning.
Born in Centralia, Washington. June’s mother, a bold, warm-hearted woman, was the police
chief’s daughter. June, an only child, inherited her mother’s strong character. In a photo of June
at perhaps age 5, she is seated on a tricycle. She looks directly into the lens, and there is but one
message: “Let’s make it clear. I’m running the show here.” Which she did, for nearly 97 years.
Like her mother, June married three times. “Married and buried three,” she would say in her
later years.
June loved to dance. Near the end of the Second World War, at the Trianon Ballroom in Seattle,
she met her first husband, Edward Dykowski. Together they moved to his family home in
Chicago. Photos and letters from that time depict a happy, loving couple, made even more so by
the birth of two sons.
After her first husband’s death in 1960, June loaded up her boys and drove west. Her second
marriage brought her relocation to Portland, Oregon; a city she grew to love.
She was a pretty woman, who kept up her appearance. Friday was “beauty parlor day.” A wash
and set. June had high expectations, and didn’t always make it easy on her hairdressers, but darn
if she didn’t always look great afterwards.
When she was happy, June just sparkled. She loved to sing, but never knew the words.
Listening to the “June version” of most any song was always a treat. Spending time with June
was a guarantee of two things: firstly, at some point you would laugh till your stomach hurt, and
secondly, that sparkle would keep you coming back for more.
After her second husband passed, June was set up on a blind date with Lyle Potter. Lyle, a
widower with a grown son and daughter, proved the perfect spoil to June’s set of tricks.
Their favorite holiday was April Fool’s Day. They would plot elaborate pranks that highlighted
the special love they held for each other. The sparkle that was “June” fully blossomed in the
thirty years they spent together. Spend any time with June and Lyle, you were bound to hear
both: “Love ya, Honey” and “Damnit, June!”
In addition to her early career as a hairdresser, or as it was referred to at the time “a beauty
operator,” June worked in the Cedar Park Junior High School cafeteria, a Mode O’ Day Dress
shop, gave several ill-advised Tupperware parties and enjoyed 15 years as an optical department
receptionist at Kaiser Permanente. She loved reading The Oregonian (“Meier and Frank’s
having a sale!”) and for the past four decades was a patron of the Oregon Symphony Pops
Concerts.
June is survived by her sons, Ed and David, stepson Scott and stepdaughter Shelle; as well as six
grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren; with number nine on the way, expected most
fittingly, in June.
Contributions in her memory can be made to Oregon Public Broadcasting.
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