I went to a funeral for an old friend a few weeks ago. I sat in the back of the Fairbanks church and thought of the many times I'd seen Leslie Campbell over the years, both professionally and personally.
Our sons are about the same age and 25 years ago they liked nothing better than to battle for control of the galaxy with Lego spaceships.
The front of the service program featured a photo her son, Mark, took of her some years ago for a college photography final exam when he desperately needed a cooperative subject and found one in his mom, beaming, with her hand near her chin.
Leslie worked in a half-dozen elementary schools and had a distinguished 37-year career as a speech pathologist, teacher and principal in Fairbanks schools. She won many awards and honors, including Alaska Principal of the Year.
If on one day she found herself serving as a football referee at recess and on another she put on a baseball cap backward for a rap song about a teaching assessment tool, she never balked.
She had a gift for putting people at ease. When she looked you in the eye to say, "Do you know how much you mean to me?" there was only one answer.
Leslie had a noticeable laugh that embodied the idea of "joyful noise." Family lore holds that the first time she laughed as a toddler, the sound scared her so much she started crying.
Leslie died April 26 at 65, survived by her husband, Joe, and her son, Mark. Her family has set up a fund at Mt. McKinley Bank in Fairbanks for "Leslie's Children," a foundation to help children who don't have enough to eat. When she saw kids under her care who were hungry, she reached into her pocket and helped them. This is a way to continue that work.
As we waited for the service to begin at St. Raphael's Catholic Church, I also remembered how she encouraged me long ago to become one of the judges in the annual speech contest that she and others championed in the Fairbanks schools. This contest has helped countless people overcome the fear of public speaking.
Many times I saw her share a kind word with a child before going to the front of the room, or watched as she offered consolation when panic struck. She always let the kids know that everything would work out fine.
It was a speech she had given as an eighth-grader in the Peach Blossom Festival in California that changed her life. Her talk was about 6-year-old Eloise, the character in a 1955 children's book who lives and causes trouble at the Plaza Hotel in New York. This speech inspired her to become a debater in high school and college, compete on the state level in California and study the art and science of speech.
I knew there were many things to say about Leslie and I wondered who would say them at the funeral.
That was when my wife, reading through the program, turned to me and asked, "Do you know you are supposed to give the eulogy?"
No, I did not know that.
There had been a mix-up in communication — and perhaps it was all my fault — but this was the first I had heard about it.
In that instant, I was more panicked than any of the kids I had ever seen in decades of judging speech contests, including the one who lost his place and ran off the stage in tears at Pearl Creek Elementary School. I went up and asked the deacon, George Bowder, what I should do.
"Let the Holy Spirit guide you," he said.
OK. I took a few deep breaths and juggled ideas in my mind as the Mass progressed. I was terrified of disappointing her family and friends and of not doing justice to her memory.
Leslie had once told me that the beautiful thing about public speaking is that it can be a strength for people of all abilities.
I didn't think much of my ability at that instant, but I remembered all those times when she counseled young speakers and I silently thanked her and took comfort in that image. She understood the challenge of extemporaneous speech and would have accepted an earnest, though nervous, eulogist.
It was the hardest talk I've ever had to make, but I will be forever grateful that I had the opportunity to honor her and speak from the heart.
Dermot Cole lives in Fairbanks and is a longtime journalist and historian The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.