Lillian Lind's card finally finds its way home

I did not know Lillian Lind well, but I knew her well enough to be invited to her 100th birthday party.  

She had scheduled it for March 2 at the Elks Club in Coeur d’Alene. It was going to be a grand affair to include dinner, Irish music and a no-host bar. And “No presents please. Your presence is a gift.” 

I remember she called me to be sure I got the invitation. She was very excited about turning 100 and wanted to know if I could write a story about it. She struck me as a woman who had lived a good, full life, who delighted in sharing it with others. She wanted people to know about things she had done, people she'd loved, places she had been. 

"Bill, I have never allowed anyone to do my story," she wrote on the invitation. "My two years in North Idaho College and my life in the '70s with the Spokane Daily Chronicle, etc. It may be of interest to write up for my 100th birthday, so maybe you would. You did excellent for Leo. He's so proud."

I assured her I would be there.

Lillian didn’t make it. 

She died Jan. 17 at age 99.

I still have the invitation. In it, she wrote, “Your entire family are welcome to the party my son and daughter-in-law are planning I have only 5 months to stay alive. Today, my hairdresser made plans.” 

That was the last time I heard from her. 

Until Sunday. 

I was visiting my son and his family in Deer Park, and he said he had something for me, something he had forgotten about but came across again. It was a card addressed to me from Lillian. I don’t know how, but it ended up in the hands of someone who recognized the name Buley and gave it to my son, Nick, who works at The Coeur d’Alene Resort. He placed it somewhere it sat unnoticed until it resurfaced last week. 

Months after it was sent, I had it in my hands. 

It was a thank you card with a family Christmas picture of a veteran from the veterans home in Post Falls. She thought I would like to see it and perhaps write about the family. Lillian was there for a time with her partner, Leo Benoit, a World War II veteran I had written about in 2021. I interviewed Leo at the apartment they shared in Coeur d’Alene. It was how I came to know them. 

Later, when Leo had a mishap with a vehicle, they had to move from their apartment packed with pictures and books, and Leo got a place at the veterans home. Lillian let me know and I offered to help with the move, but she said they had enough family nearby to do the heavy lifting. 

I opened the envelope and read it, the words in clean, neat handwriting. 

In part, it said, “I know you are busy but thought it would be a good Xmas pic and Leo love to see you again.” 

She went on, “I haven’t done anything great in a lifetime (I had 6 kids and that’s a big deal now). But I hope you and your family are planning on coming to my birthday party. It will be fun, guaranteed.” 

On the back of the card, she scribbled a few more words: “It might give others the idea to bring their vet home for a Xmas visit. Living in a multimillion-dollar veteran home does not take the place of a home sweet home.” 

It was sad to read she thought she hadn’t done anything great in her lifetime. Of course, she had. Perhaps no one ever told her. I wish she had made it to 100. It would have been the birthday party she deserved.

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Bill Buley is assistant managing editor at The Press.