Obituary of Carolyn June Breen Kolibaba

Our beloved mother, Carolyn June Breen Kolibaba, set forth October 9, 2021, on a journey she’d been planning for some time since the passing of our father, her soul mate, Robert Louis Kolibaba. Daddy’s framed WWII photo rarely left her side after his passing in 2013. But first…Mom’s story begins with her birth to Philip Alexander Breen, Jr. and Jessie Evelyn Stark Breen of Portland, Oregon, on October 2, 1927. Her life was enriched by experiences and friendships formed in a beautiful pink home  on  Bryce Street in northeast Portland.   More life-long school friendships began at Madeleine and Beaumont grammar schools, Holy Child Academy, and Marylhurst College.  Mom's schooling nurtured in her a love of language, Latin, and literature, and her talents as a writer blossomed. In both her friendships and her writing, Mom’s sense of humor and quick wit were her trademark. Throughout her lifetime, many elaborate practical jokes bounced back and forth, as well as bon mots, puns, and clever, deadpan one-liners.

Mom was introduced to our father, a University of Portland student, at a Marylhurst dance. The name “Bob Kolibaba” struck her funny and she laughed out loud.  It’s a good thing they soon met again at another college party, for on that occasion they became smitten with each other. Their courtship lasted for six months; their engagement lasted for over two years. They waited, impatiently, to marry until the day after Daddy graduated.   Wedding bells rang out at St. Rose Church on June 4, 1949.

As her three daughters, we have many memories to share. From our early days we recall her involvement at St. Rita School as a devoted room and Mother’s Club mom. She was also our  bedtime-prayer teacher, ballet-costume maker, and creative ironer (iron only the sleeves and collars of the uniform blouses -  our jumpers covered the rest).  Mom also invented “pig days” to spice things up when Daddy was out of town.

We will never ask “What’s a Cinnamon Bear?” for Mom was instrumental in bringing back this 1930’s Christmas radio story from obscurity to international attention.  She created a fan club known as  the Cinnamon Bear Brigade (with membership cards and a solemn swearing-in ceremony) and a newsletter, the Bear Facts.   Many life-long friendship resulted, all while bringing the love of the Cinnamon Bear to new generations. Mom created a Cinnamon Bear show, with props made by Daddy, which she presented in countless classrooms. She even marched in several local parades, dressed as Paddy O’Cinnamon, playing to the children in the crowd.

Her grandchildren and great-grandchildren were not only fortunate enough to learn all about the Cinnamon Bear, they were also taught a love of nature on many a springtime trillium trek and blossom ride.  Mom also loved to share facts  about literature, language, theater, and history, and referred to these as “culture lessons,” a phrase that elicited eye rolls from the grandchildren.

Our family’s love of Seaside was born of Mom’s childhood experiences  in the 1920s and '30s with grandmother Mee Mee.  They loved to swim at the Natatorium and walk the Prom, hand-in-hand.  In later years we would  vacation every summer at The Tides.  Our devotion to Seaside is memorialized  by a plaque designating the Kolibaba family bench near the Turnaround.

Correct grammar was mom’s passion and fodder for many a joke. The words on a wall plaque given to her by grandchildren, proclaiming “I’m silently correcting your grammar,” say it all.   Mom’s writing was not only grammatically correct, but also lively and graceful, with many contributions to The Oregonian, the Seaside Signal, the Catholic Sentinel, and other publications.  These written legacies will be treasured always.

To Mom, homemaking was an art (in spite of pig days).  She leaves a legacy of needlework, sewing, proper Sunday dinners, precisely folded laundry, and creating an “atmosphere corner” for every holiday.   Mom, a 1950s-era homemaker, also taught us a few tricks of the trade:  Fels Naphtha gets all stains out; clean the lint trap in your dryer regularly; leave your vacuum cleaner in the living room if you’ve been playing all day but you want your husband to think you’ve been keeping house; and boil an onion so the house will smell good in case you haven’t started dinner yet.  Most importantly, Mom taught us how to be caring, compassionate, nurturing, and kind to others. These values are indelibly etched in our lives.   

In later life, our parents were blessed with opportunities to travel to Eastern Europe, Scotland, Paris, and significantly, Omaha Beach, where our father landed on D-Day. All these trips were interspersed with visits  to their beloved Maui with lifelong friends.

Age was never Mom’s foe as we watched her take up many activities in her second chapter, such as downhill skiing at 50 (until her final run at age 84), para sailing and hang gliding in her 70’s, swimming with the dolphins in Mexico on her 80th birthday, as well as learning to tap dance and to play piano along the way. 

She did have a few pet peeves, to which anyone who knew her well can attest.  Misplaced apostrophes; Helen Steiner Rice’s saccharine greeting cards; people who don’t write thank-you notes; and Mother’s Day (“created by greeting card companies to erase the guilt of children who aren’t nice to their mothers every day”) are some of her more well-known ones. 

For Mom, rules and regulations were more akin to soft guidelines , as the following stories show:  Mom and Daddy’s favorite Maui vacation spot was located next door to a members’ only canoe club (“member” being the operative word). From their lanai, Mom would watch paddlers depart daily to Maalaea Bay.  The lure was strong.  Relying on her engaging personality and gift of persuasion, and after pleading with the club’s manager and the signing of a legal waiver, Mom was able to climb her way into one of the canoes and embark across the bay for the ride of a lifetime. In another adventure,  Mom persuaded a mailman to let her ride in a US Postal Service truck so that he could deliver her in person as a live package.   Then there was the time she posed for pictures  in an antique sedan chair  -  roped off to visitors - in a Paris hotel lobby.  She also finagled  her way into joining the One More Time Around Again Marching band for a trip to Pasadena, although the only instrument she could play was the triangle.  

Mom, your passion for life and selfless devotion to family and friends will be the beacon we will follow. From your 90th birthday on, you had a stylish tea towel draped over your walker, declaring “It’s Time to Drink Champagne and Dance on the Table.”  So now, we release you, drinking and dancing, as you begin another journey, one you’ve been anticipating since Daddy’s passing. Awaiting your arrival in heaven are your beloved husband Bob, your parents, and your brother, Donald Breen.  We who remain on earth miss you greatly: daughters Carol Nieman, Anne Kolibaba Larkin (Jerry), and Mary J. Fuhrer (Greg); grandchildren Julie Nieman (Dylan Leeman), Chris Nieman (Seema Patel), Mary Elizabeth Nieman, Laura Bolen, Megan Fuhrer (fiancé, Aaron Hensley), John Fuhrer (Sarah Hunt), and Jacob Fuhrer; great-grandchildren Jade and Talley Rose Leeman, and Alexander and Isabelle Bolen; brother-in-law Donald Kolibaba of Carmichael, California; and two nieces and three nephews.

Mom would appreciate donations to SnowCap Community Charities, PO Box 160, Fairview, Oregon,  97233,   www.snowcap.org.