Feb. 28 marked the fourth anniversary of the death of my wife, Jacquelyn McCandless

February always has been my least favorite month.

January has a generous portion of sunshine followed by a usually bleak February.

My paternal grandmother, who practically raised me while my parents were getting divorced, died in February 1984 just three years from her 100th birthday.

February was the month when payment was due for the Christmas gifts I had charged back in December.

The sunshine of January almost always has been followed by a gloom, overcast and rain. I am not a big fan of February.
Jackie and I were married 41 years and eight months. We were apart a total of 28 days during our marriage.

A friend asked how I kept track of our timeline. Simple. I am a writer. Each year I purchase a log book and make notes on events and special occasions.

No, we didn’t spend 24 hours a day together. But at least once a day, either early morning or late at night, we would sit down and compare notes.
For several years we went square dancing together, with a group that was headquartered in Santa Monica, the Heels and Soles. We discontinued when she broke her foot a couple of years ago. After her foot mended, she decided that we should take up Scottish Folk Dancing. We attended one session when she twisted her ankle, sidelining her again.

Jackie loved to travel. She enjoyed trying new restaurants.

We traveled back to Pennsylvania and her hometown of Butler,  at least once a year to visit her family and friends.

In our travels, we visited Niagara Falls, went horseback riding in Palm Springs, explored Rosarita Beach in Mexico, toured the gambling casinos in Las Vegas, visited the Arizona ranch I grew up on in Wilcox. Another time we traveled to Texas to see her father at a vacation home he had purchased.

She consulted with me on the three documentaries I produced, as well as the scores of commercials and educational

films I was involved in.

Jackie was my assistant when I was Executive Director of the Western Hemisphere Marathon in Culver City.From the time we were first married, it was my job to do the laundry. While I was in the laundry room, I would talk to myself.She loved to sneak up on me while I was doing the laundry, carrying on a onesided conversation. She would tickle me and then laugh. When she felt I had promised to do something, she would snap to attention and sing:

Whenever you make a promise!

Consider it your duty!

And engrave it on your heart!

She was looking forward to traveling to Idaho to see my sister Nina who introduced me to her in Germany.

She leaves behind my two sons, Brian and Lee, our grandson Sean, her brother, three sisters, and scores of friends at Brotman Hospital.

She is missed.

Mr. Hawkins may be contacted at rjhculvercity@aol.com