Julie Ann Simshauser

Julie Ann Simshauser

May 16, 1945 – May 7, 2026

It must’ve been a dramatic day in Spokane—a strong thunderstorm, more than an inch and a half of rain, and the arrival of my mother!

On May 16^th, 1945, Julie Ann Tye entered this world. She was the youngest child of Dante (Bud) and Phyllis Tye, and the newest sibling of Joyce and Michael.

From the stories she told of her time growing up in the small house that still sits at 3117 West Glass Avenue, I know that she enjoyed an incredibly happy childhood. The neighborhood was filled with kids. They all attended Finch Elementary and spent countless hours playing at Audubon Park. Families celebrated milestones and holidays together, often with the help of Grandpa Bud’s once famous and always potent Manhattans.

My mother went on to attend Glover Junior High School, Shadle Park High School, and Washington State University briefly before graduating from Fort Wright College. At Fort Wright, she honed and practiced the skills then built the plan that she would later put into play over the course of her career as an elementary school art teacher. She also established friendships that would endure over the remainder of her life. Many, maybe all, of these women were to become extensions of our family—less my mom’s friends, more my “other aunts.”

My mom loved to read, especially while sitting in the sun on the back deck. She loved music, in particular, Elton John, Cher, James Taylor, Lionel Richie, and of course, Carly Simon. She loved flowers—tulips, sunflowers, and geraniums in the spring and summer, poinsettias every winter. And she loved regularly visiting several places, notably Cannon Beach, Oregon and Whidbey Island, Washington. No place, however, was more important to her than Spokane.

Over the years, my mom played many roles in my life, from my most vocal advocate and supporter to the standard-setter who was unafraid to let me know when I had not made her grade. She seemingly kept every homemade card that I ever crafted. She made a very real effort to photo-document my rather undistinguished athletic career, with many pictures to prove it. But there’s also evidence of her effort to instill a set of values and provide a compass for her only son. Some of that evidence can still be found in the form of pointed notes she penned to me during my high school years.

With her passing, those of us who loved her are resigned to our memories. I’ll carry those memories with me, both big and small. I’ll smile when I think about our trips to Seattle during spring breaks, summers, and holidays to visit my aunts, uncles, and cousins. I’ll laugh when I think about our battles on the Whitworth College tennis courts. I will appreciate how hard she worked so that she could take me to my first concert (The Oak Ridge Boys), surprise me on my 10^th birthday with a new BMX bike (a Cycle Pro), as well as provide me with a car that I was proud to drive (a 1967 Mercury Cougar) during a time of life that it felt really important to have a car that you were proud to drive.

I’m also going to remember celebrating my 21^st birthday with her on Whidbey Island, seeing how happy she was when Lisa and I were married, and the enormous pride my mother displayed whenever she talked about her grandsons, Adam and Ethan.

Like too many people, my mother faced a debilitating chronic disease that she couldn’t overcome. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 2018. The subsequent years presented my mom with real challenges—physical, emotional, and more. She faced those, like she faced all challenges, with a smile, even continuing to volunteer with the Retired Teachers Association.

While she never liked asking for help, people came freely. Over the past eight years, she and I have been blessed by the support of advocacy organizations, attorneys, financial planners, and of course, friends. Friends who visited her, including one who came every week over the span of her disease; friends who regularly offered guidance and their words of encouragement; and friends who took time out of their lives to house me, feed me, and help me pack and move my mom when she required higher levels of care.

I will forever appreciate those actions and the relationships upon which they’re founded. I will also choose to remember my mom’s independent spirit, her contagious laugh, and her never well-timed, almost always inappropriate cynical sense of humor. Not as much her disease. As one of my closest and longest-held friends offered, she had “a wonderful smile and such a bubbly personality.”

She absolutely did!

We love you, mom. I love you. Thank you for everything.