Barbara Winters Korin 

The room was filled.  The minister got up to say a few words…my aunt was not a church –going person.  However, she never faltered, as far as I knew, from her thirst to know the Divine.  She prayed her rosary and collected crosses…They were not a simple collecting for the sake of collecting something beautiful.  They were part of her devotion.  She had a devotion to living each day without rose-colored glasses.

Devotion.  That is something that reverberated the day we gathered to say good-bye to my Aunt Barbara.  She was devoted to her children, to all her grandchildren, her husband, sister and all her family.  She was devoted to her students and friends.  So many people stood at the impromptu invitation to say something. Many of her students testified. They testified to her encouragement, to her willingness to give so they could find their own voice and write.   

Her devotion to honor that creative voice within and sustain the nurturing of others in their art served well for a life well-lived. There were many remembrances of parties where everyone brought something creative to share Life nurtured her art; art nurtured her life.  Parties where the cousins performed something Aunt Barbara had written were reminisced. Stories were a part of her life.  They were a part of her memorial.   They were her gift to us all. 

Her own words echo my experience of her:
  

The Journey

By Barbara Winters Korin

 My feet have trod this mortal path
With loved ones at my side
I’ve won and lost life’s battles
Like you, I’ve laughed; I’ve cried
I’ve lost my way a million times
But someone always near
Took my hand in comfort
And smiled away my tear
I’ve anguished in the darkness
Exalted in the sun
My soul is laid upon the wind
My journey has begun