On Tuesday, March 30th, 2021, the world experienced the devastating loss of the most beautiful and kind spirit of Sally Ann Duncan Spinola at the age of 76. Sally was preceded in death by both parents Ruth and LeRoy, and her eldest sister Bonnie. She is survived by her loving husband John, sister and close friend Jill, youngest sister Janice, two grown and adoring children Michael and Kristen, a loving daughter in law Nikki, and two sweet grandchildren, Bijou and Kaia. Also, though technically in-laws, the entire Spinola family never saw Sally as anything but family, and the feeling was entirely mutual. She is also survived by many nieces, nephews, cousins, and many very close friends that were family in every way except biology. Sally demonstrated to everyone that blood shouldn't dictate the people you consider family, but it's an excellent place to start.

 Sally, aka Nurse Sally, wife, Mom (not just to biological ones, but anyone who needed or wanted one) true friend, confidant, cheering section, safe place, kindest smile, acceptance, warrior, mama bear, and even sometimes, savior. Born in Massachusetts, Sally was raised in Pennsylvania and graduated from The Reading Hospital School of Nursing in 1965 - at which point she began her calling. Sally had a natural gift of not just saving lives but touching them. She intuitively knew what people needed: mind, body, and soul, and silently offered it. The majority needed someone to listen, to be seen, understood, and accepted. Sally had a gift for this and shared it freely. She touched hearts and changed lives everywhere she went.

 Sally worked in the Emergency Room at the University of Kentucky, then the ER in New York Hospital and Beakman Hospital NY. During this time, she met her husband, John. They had a wonderful time in New York, eating out, seeing shows, exploring, and just being young and in love in NY. They also had many adventures. Most people in NY don't own cars, but John figured out he needed one and bought one with just a couple of problems. It was an old Porche with minor issues such as the floorboards were rusted through and the heater didn't work. Not that big of a deal until they decided to take a lovely trip to Maine to see the changing colors of the leaves but were unexpectedly caught in a snowstorm. Snow coming from the floor, no heat. It was not the romantic weekend they had in mind. Sally just enjoyed the adventure of it and then laughed about it for the rest of her life. 

 Sally took the leap and moved across the country to California with John. They married in 1971 in a small ceremony in Orinda where everything for the reception was donated. John's Mom, Kit, made the dress. Both mothers made the cake and food for the reception. In addition, one of John's friends was able to donate an ample private space. Even the honeymoon was donated by some of John's oldest and dearest friends Jack & Evelyn. It was a one-night stay that night on the 42nd floor of the Hilton Hotel in San Francisco. Sally was thrilled. They had an astonishing view of the bay and the bay bridge. When they headed to bed, Sally went to close the blinds. John asked why she said so no one could see them. John replied that anyone who managed to climb 42 stories outside the building definitely earned a show. They had a good laugh, and the drapes stayed open.

Sally was always able to find the silver lining. She had a mindset that allowed her to find equally great joy in that first bite of chicken parmesan or her morning coffee as she did petting lions and dingoes in New Zealand and Australia, respectively.

They lived in multiple places around Northern Ca. In every area, Sally made the house into a home. She made friends with the neighbors, found a job of her own, and got comfortable.

 For most of that time, she worked in the emergency room of Kaiser Permanente Hospital in Oakland. When she took the job at the Oakland ER, they were placing bulletproof glass, and the bullet hole that created her job opening was still in the wall, but she marched on bravely. It's not that Sally lacked fear. She just knew how to move within it. She did her job, offered all her skills, kindness, and always a welcoming smile. She was courageous, always thought for herself regardless of what society said, and her thoughts were always driven by love, compassion, and acceptance.

 Sally was always up for a bit of mischief. The first day they were in Paradise, John got up that morning, and it had snowed. Not a problem. He could deal with snow just fine. Well, it turned out to be a problem because there is only one road in or out of Paradise, it's a two-lane road, and there's a good-sized climb on the way out. John only made it for a couple of blocks, saw all the spin-outs and accidents, realized he would get nowhere, and turned around. When he returned to the house, Sally asked what he would do now. He replied, "Let's meet the neighborhood!" Mind you, everything they owned was still in boxes. Usually, Sally would be worried about people seeing their house in such a state, but she joined John in pushing boxes to the edges. Making room for people to move and sit and, of course, finding the boxes with cups and alcohol. John went door to door and invited everyone. Sally welcomed them to the house, everyone brought something, and they made a smashing first impression on those neighbors.

 When they first moved to Sparks, Nevada, Sally was crash introduced to the neighborhood. John was working for MacTools, so he had his truck full of tools in their driveway, and something set off the alarm. Poor Sally went out there but had no clue how to make it stop. Slowly but surely, the neighbors started coming over to help while Sally apologized profusely. Luckily these were the nicest people ever. They became family and are still a big part of our lives. No one figured out how to turn the alarm off. One of them even unplugged the battery. Imagine his surprise when the alarm kept going. John had it hooked to a backup battery. He turned it off when he got home and got to meet the neighbors over laughter and a great story.  

Sally always thought for herself, unafraid to stand against the majority. Even in the '70s, when homosexuality was considered a mental disorder, Sally believed the people on that unit were not sick and would happily listen to, offer kindness, support, and acceptance to anyone who wanted it. When Sally had children, she couldn't work in Emergency Rooms anymore. It distressed her too much. They moved from CA to Sparks, then Reno. She kept nursing but focused on helping those struggling with addiction, where she helped so many, not just physically. Still, she helped with what caused the addiction—always offering that kindness, love, caring, support, and acceptance. She never asked for anything in return, not from anyone. 

Then in 1997, she was the first nurse when the H.O.P.E.S. clinic of Northern Nevada opened. H.O.P.E.S. treated patients with HIV/AIDS. This was before they had created the life-saving med cocktail, and the treatments weren't working. People were dying--fast. This job was Sally's most significant challenge and a time period in which her light shined the brightest. She was awarded nurse of the year in 2000. Her impact was noticed and applauded. All the pieces of her nursing career paled in comparison to her gift with people. 

 Also, in 2000 Sally's daughter Kristen stole her address book and sent out requests to everyone in it for a letter containing how Sally touched their lives with a complete artistic license on their part. She received hundreds of replies, stories, poems, memories, drawings, pictures, all of them so beautiful, people jumped at the chance to say thank you. Finally, everything was compiled and bound in a book given to her on her 55th birthday during a surprise party. Sally didn't fully realize or believe her impact on people until she read that book and saw all her friends at that party. That book lived next to her chair after that. She read it often when she needed a lift or reminder of the love she spread and was reciprocated on the more challenging days. 

 The H.O.P.E.S. population of patients was ostracized from society and often disowned by their family and friends. Even as they died terrible, painful, and brutal deaths, most of the families never came. Sally always had a welcoming smile, time to listen, talk, support to give, love to offer, and most importantly, unconditional acceptance. When the rest of the world had turned their backs, they knew at least one person cared and accepted them. Sometimes one is all you need. She became Mom, friend, or confidant to them, and her affection was genuine. The challenge for Sally was her patients were dying, the current treatments did very little, and she loved them. She spent many of her evenings in the hospital visiting patients, and multiple times a week, she went to funerals. The emotional cost for Sally was getting to be too much. Though she would never quit when she picked a fight, she finished it. Fortunately, the life-saving med cocktail arrived just in time. Now it was all about teaching patients how to LIVE with the disease. Sally worked at H.O.P.E.S. until she retired, and those years of patients living were a poultice for all the loss the years before. 

For all the kindness and empathy Sally offered, she was a fighter through and through.

Sally's first child was unexpected as she had an IUD. That IUD was delivered seconds before her premature son. Weighing just 4 pounds 10 ounces, Michael could fit in the palm of John's hand. When Michael was first released from the hospital, Sally was terrified. She slept under his crib for over six months because, as a nurse, she knew exactly what could go wrong. She wouldn't let anyone else near him until he caught up to average weight.

Looking at Michael today, you would never know he was premature at 6'3" and 200 plus. She did a fantastic job. 

Then their second child came along five years later. Again, the IUD was delivered first. You'd think they would learn! When their daughter Kristen was very young, a doctor told her, "Kristen has a learning disability and will never be able to read or write, but she's a pretty little girl. Maybe some nice boy will marry her and take care of her." Sally had some choice words for the doctor, and it wasn't about where to find nice boys. She left, saying that was not an option. She spent the next two years taking Kristen to multiple specialists, and doing daily exercises with a 4 and 5 y/o is an authentic tribute to her strength, patience, and determination. Sally never picked a fight she wasn't prepared to win. Kristen learned to read and write wonderfully, graduated high school with Honors, earned a BA in Psychology, an MBA, and so much more. 

Not everything is work. Sally knew how to enjoy life. She loved her sports on TV, but especially live. She had season tickets to Wolf Pack basketball for over a decade. The last couple of years, she wasn't able to go alone, so Kristen joined her. Even though watching sports isn't Kristen's thing, Sally was always such a joy to be around, especially when doing something she loved. Sally enjoyed live theater and saw shows all over the world. Sally traveled all over the world, mostly with her family. Sally was a delight to travel with because she enjoyed everything. She could also sleep just about anywhere on the first family trip around Scotland and Ireland. Sally managed to nap in every location. The family created photo series of her napping, usually in the car, which is fair. The rest of the family has trouble sleeping, so there is probably a little playful envy there. 

Sally adored animals likely from the minute she was born. As a child, Sally's family had a pet duck that wandered, but it was a small town, so people would call the house and tell her mother that her duck was walking through downtown again. She adopted or brought in the strays that she fed, pet, and loved as an adult. That big heart of hers connected with all animals. Sally would light up with any animal. Australia Zoo was her idea of heaven; many animals were out with their handlers (she pet dingoes, kangaroos, wallabies, ostriches, emus, and more). Australia gets guests up close with so many animals. It's so clear these animals are loved, and conservation is the goal. She also found joy in the mundane, such as her morning cup of coffee or tea, all kinds of food, her afternoon naps, a good book, sitting in her garden, spending time with family and friends, petting her kitties, beautiful things (art, jewelry, clothes, sunsets, lakes), and so much more.

It's important to know that while Sally gave of herself so freely, her life was a constant struggle with her health. It wasn't just one thing. It was so many. She was born into a body that didn't work well, rotten luck. We found a list of surgeries that showed between the age of 4 y/o and 61 y/o, she had 21 major surgeries and five hospitalizations. That list stopped in 2006, but she had many more between then and now. She worked until she physically couldn't. She struggled with chronic pain and a laundry list of illnesses that most doctors were surprised she was doing so well. She had every right to be angry, frustrated, grumpy, and have nothing to give, but she chose to respond with humor, to find joy wherever she could, and she carried her gifts with her everywhere she went. She appeared with a welcoming smile and a good sense of humor for all the surgeries, hospital stays, doctor appointments, labs, and procedures. 

Sally said that she lived a good life, and we are all grateful she felt that way as she certainly made everyone else's life better. Shortly after she passed, a single phrase passed the lips of family and friends, "She was the best of us." She was, and always will be. She was the miracle of life--of what life can be. Sally was the possibility and the impossibility. With humble beginnings and a great story, she created a footpath of memories and love from one coast to the other. Aphrodite herself would be envious of the love she gave and received. Sally will be deeply missed forever. 

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