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The
Robert Ellis Donnelly
Memorial Webpage


As per his wishes, no funeral or memorial services were held for Robert Ellis Donnelly, 68, of Chico, CA, USA, also known by the nicknames Bob and "Bear".

Mr. Donnelly died Wednesday, January 28, 1998, of natural causes, following a heart attack.

A dedicated family man, he is survived by his beloved and loving family — their beloved cat, Buffy; wife of 44 years, Evelyn Bernice Donnelly (née Clingan), of Chico; sons and daughter — Robert Wayne Donnelly, of Rancho La Costa, CA; Lesa Louise (Pat) Donnelly, of Corning, CA; William Harold Donnelly, of Chico; and Daniel Lee (Jeannie) Donnelly, of Chico; a family-"adopted" son and long-time friend of the family, James Benjamin Clark, of Bakersfield, CA; two nieces (Metha & Cheryl) from his pre-deceased brother Harold "Hal" Edward Donnelly (& wife Pat); and many friends and acquaintances. His father and mother were Frank O. (Fernando/Ferdinand – de Orzi / Dewey) and Gladys Vivian (née Williams) Donnelly, both pre-deceased.

A life-long resident of the state of California, he was born September 12, 1930 in Hollister, CA and lived large parts of his life in South San Francisco and other parts of the Bay Area, Oroville, Visalia and surrounding areas, Feather River Canyon near Twain, Chico, Marysville / Yuba City, and Loma Rica, as well as occasional forays to various parts of the country when younger. He and his wife also traveled for several years as "Snowbirds", going south for the winter to "The Slabs" in their camper or RV.

Mr. Donnelly worked for United Airlines in the 1960s and owned and operated many successful businesses during his life, including several bars and pizza joints, working as a Painting Contractor, Auto-Body Painter & Businessman as Owner of Beauty-Luster Auto-Body-Paint in Visalia (where his Special Deals for car painting for $26.66, $27.77, $28.88, and $29.99 almost put Earl Scheib out of business in the late 1960s), Rancher (& Horse-Lover), Restaurateur, Chef & Cook, Proprietor of Woody's Feather River Hot Springs Resort in the Feather River Canyon near Twain, and Jeweler, Craftsman and Artist, among others. He also served briefly in the U.S. Navy between World War II and the Korean War. (much of it spent in the Brig, according to his many stories)

His interests were as varied as his work and included riding and racing Indian motorcycles in the late 1940s and early 1050s, cooking, an avid reader of fiction, gemology, lapidary, and Rock Hound. At one time he collected and restored Classic Antique Automobiles and was once purported to have owned the largest collection of antique car parts West of the Mississippi, most of which were sold to Harrah's in Tahoe. He was an accomplished gambler and pool "hustler" and an adept humorist, storyteller, and "Bullshitter".

Although wheelchair-bound due to a partially-paralyzing stroke 10 years prior, and dealing with diabetes and other health complications, he remained active, enjoying working in his garden, using his computer, traveling, and visiting with his family and friends.

The family wishes to extend their sincere thanks, gratitude and appreciation to Mr. Donnelly's family physician, Dr. Sally Foltz, his two primary care-givers and to the many other doctors, nurses and care-givers at Enloe and Chico Community Hospitals, in-home health services, and convalescent and rehabilitation centers in Chico.

At his request, Mr. Donnelly was cremated, at Afforable Mortuary. Donations in his name may be made to your local mission or homeless shelter. Condolences may be e-mailed via the online website.



 

Stop All The Clocks —— Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

— W. H. Auden

 

Death Is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

— Henry Scott-Holland

 
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