[Libs-Or] Sad news from Corvallis about the loss of a fine librarian and lady of ladies

[hleman at samhealth.org]

Hello, everyone. It is with a heavy heart that I must report to you that our beloved colleague, Dorothy O’Brien, the former head of library services at Samaritan Health Services here in Oregon, died on Wednesday May 12, 2010.

Dorothy had spent much of her life and career in Wyoming also and was a member of both the MCMLA and the PNC/MLA. I worked under Dorothy at Murray Memorial Library at Good Samaritan Regional Medical Center (GSRMC) in Corvallis, Oregon and would like to share some memories of her.

First of all, I came to know Dorothy as a library patron myself because I started in the medical records department and would often read in the library on my breaks. Dorothy struck me as a remarkably pretty woman, always well turned out and she was in fact the most beautiful woman in our hospital. But, more importantly, she was courteous and welcoming to everyone who came into the library. I was just a clerk, but she treated me with every bit as much friendliness as she treated the CEO and surgeons. I remember well apologizing for having dozed off in one of the chairs and for almost certainly snoring and snorting in my sleep. Dorothy gaily said, “Well, we want people to feel comfortable in the library!”

I later was very pleased to get the job in the library as a library technical specialist and I was struck by the fact that many of the people at the hospital, upon learning of my new job, told me how lucky I was to be getting such a wonderful person as a boss and how nice Dorothy was. They also told me I would have to learn to dress better, given how lovely Dorothy was! I remember well a young woman from another department sighing when Dorothy was assigning me a task in Dorothy’s usual soft, gentle manner, “I wish I worked here, too!”

Dorothy was a superb librarian, particularly at searching and I was impressed by how many doctors and other medical people, administrators and members of the community came to her office to thank her personally for her help in tracking down just the information they needed to solve a particularly daunting, perplexing problem. I remember her sitting at her computer at various times over the years with a surgeon or a pulmonologist, the head of risk management or a cancer nurse as they all scanned the screen and conferred.

And I know she knew search in and out because one doctor, when Dorothy was on vacation said, “Well, let’s just wait until Dorothy gets back…” and one oncologist often called when she was on vacation and when I said Dorothy was away would reply in dismay, “Away!” And one said to me after I did a search while Dorothy was gone said, “That was a good effort. Next time, we will wait until Dorothy gets back…” I later learned to simply offer the option, “Would you prefer to wait until Dorothy gets back?”

Not only was Dorothy exceptionally smart she was also extremely graceful and I always enjoyed watching her lovingly welcoming new books to the library, opening each and smoothly down the covers and some of the pages.

And could she read quickly and determine with great discernment and astuteness what the key article was. I learned a huge amount from her ever tactful, edifying critiques of my often bumbling attempts at searches.

Dorothy was also much loved as a sympathetic listener and counselor and it was amusing to watch medical people of all kinds enter her office fulminating and livid about some injustice or other and to see Dorothy through her office window nodding sympathetically, occasionally making a comment and to see the aggrieved person emerged pacified and ready to return to the fray in a more reasonable frame of mind.

Dorothy was also one of the most engaging raconteurs I have ever known. She could make even the simplest event memorable and often hilarious. And she had the most wonderful laugh and rich voice. As a friend of hers and mine from the lab said, “She was the complete package!”

She also worked tremendously hard, boxing up and readying for shipping huge numbers of quite heavy coding books and disposing of outdated journals in the annual updating of the shelves. She was a model boss: generous with her time, selflessly sharing her knowledge of librarianship and tactfully but firmly correcting underlings when we erred or treated someone discourteously. I remember well being impatient with a young woman with a disability and Dorothy telling me, “Your job is to learn to be more tolerant.” She had a rare ability to make one want to be a better person.

Dorothy’s extraordinarily gentle nature enabled her to get through without bitterness one of the most debilitating of all illnesses, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (Lou Gehrig’s disease) which she was diagnosed with in April 2007 and which she died of Wednesday. Dorothy, well versed as she was in matters medical, had suspected what was wrong and when she told me that she had ALS I started to cry, as we were all so fond of her and ALS is such a terrible illness. Being the caring person she was she said, “Oh, Hope—it will be okay.” That typifies Dorothy. Here she was, facing one of the most devastating of all diseases, and her first instinct was to comfort the other person! And I was struck by how loved Dorothy was at work and in the greater world because when I went to the hospital chaplain for comfort in the face of this great blow to all of us, he was himself in tears about it, having known Dorothy since she had come to our hospital. But I remember what he said, “She will get through this with all of the grace and courage we know she has in her.” And she did indeed, facing increasing levels of disability matter-of-factly and good humouredly. One of her doctors even asked her how she could remain so cheerful in the face of such dire prospects. Dorothy simply replied, “How would it help to be angry?”

Dorothy in her illness proved herself ever more the kindest of people. At one point, she even asked me to turn the volume way down on her television so that her young caregiver in the next room would not be disturbed by the noise and she would take the trouble, after she lost the ability to speak and even though writing was hard for her, to write on her erasable board “Thank you” or “Food?” meaning not for herself but for her guests.

Dorothy worked in the library even after her retirement as manager and her determination and sunny disposition made a deep impression on the many people who used the library and showed that people with disabilities are huge helps to their colleagues and we were grateful for the help, given her deep reservoirs of knowledge about search, collection development and library management matters generally. And we were so delighted when she nodded in approval at things we did, for we respected her judgment without reservation. And she was just one of those special people whose good opinion meant something to us.

And whereas some people faced with advancing illness would have turned first to their own needs Dorothy stuck with commitments she had made before her diagnosis, such as finishing up as a member of the board for our public library, of her women’s club and working on a huge banner to advertise a local theatrical production even though using scissors and a needle and thread was not easy for her by that point. But she felt she had made a promise. The banner, of course, was gorgeous in the end. She also served on an Oregon state commission about telecommunications for the disabled. She wanted to help others as long as she could and joked, when elected Neuromuscular Patient of the Year for Oregon soon after her diagnosis, “But I haven’t done anything yet!” We kidded her, “Figures—everybody loves you, so you won!”

When Dorothy said, “It will be okay” in many respects it was. Dorothy presided over a bustling household during her illness and was greatly loved by a cohort of caregivers and a steady stream of visitors of family and friends from her beloved Wyoming. Her house was always a pleasant place to visit and her young caregivers would tell us all about their studies and hopes for the future. Dorothy had the most amazing gift for bringing out the best in people and for keeping things going smoothly and enjoyably no matter what life decided would occur. She took an interest in others and made us feel that we were all utterly charming and fascinating. And what a charming person she was herself. Charm is a hard quality to define, but Dorothy possessed it in abundance. She was a person of charismatic warmth and simply a great pleasure to be around. She took an interest in all things and in recent years returned to painting in watercolor and got quite good at yoga. Her family was every bit as delightful as Dorothy herself. Dorothy opened up new friendships for others. There was something almost magical about how she could foster human relations and spur us on to accomplishment. I certainly did better in library school than I would have otherwise knowing I could tell Dorothy about it all and get her advice.

Dorothy mentored many of us in the library sciences. I had the pleasure of attending the MCMLA annual meeting in Cody, Wyoming in 2008 and Wyoming, being Dorothy territory, literally the first person I met upon getting off the plane, noticing I was from Oregon, immediately asked, “Do you work for Dorothy O’Brien?” Once people learned I did, they were especially welcoming to me. I think that speaks well for how beloved Dorothy was in the world of librarians.

Dorothy made me proud of our library, to be in the library profession and, given her courage and greatness of heart and uncomplaining stoicism and consideration for others during her illness, proud to be a member of the human race.

Here is what Dorothy asked to be sung at her memorial service (and it is a sign of how loved she was that many, many people have asked me when the service will be—I don’t know yet):

I'll Fly Away
Some bright morning when this life is over
I'll fly away
To that home on God's celestial shore
I'll fly away

  I'll fly away oh glory
  I'll fly away (in the morning)
  When I die hallelujah by and by
  I'll fly away

When the shadows of this life have gone
I'll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls I'll fly
I'll fly away

Oh how glad and happy when we meet
I'll fly away
No more cold iron shackles on my feet
I'll fly away

Just a few more weary days and then
I'll fly away
To a land where joys will never end
I'll fly away


Hope Leman, MLIS
Research Information Technologist
Center for Health Research and Quality
Samaritan Health Services
815 NW 9th Street Suite 203A
Corvallis, OR 973

Confidentiality Notice: This e-mail message, including any attachments, is
for the sole use of the intended recipient(s) and may contain confidential
and privileged information. Any unauthorized review, use, disclosure or
distribution is prohibited. If you are not the intended recipient, please
contact the sender by reply e-mail and destroy all copies of the original
message.