In Memory of Velma Dearmore

Usually I don't do obituaries but the recent passing of Velma Dearmore, the legendary manager/waitress at the Outpost restaurant at the Woodlake airport deserves comment.

Cancer claimed the live of the 68-year woman who was a legend in her own time. She was more than adequate as a food server and eatery manager but the way she went about her tasks made her unforgettable. That was readily evident last week during the grave side services in Woodlake Cemetery. Sure pholks, there were lots of tears at the morning ceremony but it was also one of those ceremonies where one left with a smile at some of the things said during the ceremony.

Several months ago it became evident that Velma was seriously ill and there was little doubt that she was terminal. Like the cancer which invaded her body, the news of Velma's condition spread ever so quickly.

Velma was the kind of woman who pholks came to the Outpost to see and visit with, to take her good-natured ribbing and, if they were able, to give some back. Seldom did anyone get the last word with Velma. If you're eggs weren't done to your liking it wasn't unusual to hear, "Well sweetie, you can eat ‘em or you can wear ‘em." Of course you usually got ‘em fixed but not before she made you smile. "Onions in your tatters?" was Velma's question whenever a customer ordered hashbrowns. Helen Saulsbury, a longtime friend and frequent Outpost customer was one of the speakers at the service who wrote a poem for Velma as well as a heart-felt eulogy. In part, Helen wrote, Velma Dearmore is a living legend in our area. Her familiar ribbing at breakfast, "Your not leaving here until all that is eaten," or "eat some gravy and quit whining about your weight, enjoy life."

Helen also related the outpouring of feeling expressed for Velma six weeks before her death when the Woodlake airport and the Outpost were crowed by pilots and friends who gathered to honor her. Pilots from hundreds of miles away who often flew to Woodlake for breakfast or lunch hoped to say thanks for the memories. But Velma was in Kaweah Delta Hospital in Visalia that day. A two-way radio tuned to aircraft frequency was taken to the hospital and the pilots and passengers flew by the hospital where Velma watched and waved from the balcony.

Helen, who was with Velma, described the event like this: "She saw them coming and squealed with delight, There are my guys." She chatted with them as they flew by in an incredible tight wing formation. Then they came around one more time with smoke trailing behind their planes. They dipped their wings to honor this very awesome lady. She spoke to them with a genuine warmth, "You didn't make my day, you made my life."

One of Velma's sons spoke at the ceremony and told of his mom's special way with customers and friends. It was one of several Velma stories I could identify with. Her son recalled how mom would "borrow" the sports section from another customer even if that person hadn't finished their reading. Dozens of times I received a portion of the paper Velma had confiscated just to make me happy. Nobody ever complained. That was Velma. She didn't offend. She entertained.

Then there were the stories of Velma's passion for casino gambling. She loved it and was good at it. The story which garnered the most smiles was the one about her always wearing purple underwear on her casino trips. When companions on a bus trip took turns snapping her purple panties as she played a slot machine as a good luck gesture, the casino surveillance cameras captured every "good luck" snap. The casino cops investigated and were satisfied that no illegal hanky panky was going on.

Pastor Art Powers took the services in stride and had a few stories of his own. But he even had to hold back a little when another speaker told the ringer of the service. When a storage shed, converted to a decorative outhouse, near the Outpost was removed for construction of a water system pumping station, Velma complained that her hideaway had been taken away. When a two-foot high replica was made for her, the builder made a sign which read "Velma's Sit House."

The next time the builder was in for a meal, Velma came up and complimented him on his expert craftsmanship. "But," she said, "you can't spell worth a s..it"

Pastor Powers accepted the speaker's apology with a smile, adding, "That's okay, I've heard worse and besides that's Velma."

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The above stories are the property of The Valley Voice Newspaper and may not be reprinted without explicit permission in writing from the publisher.