On September 10, 2020 Ann King passed in the presence of her family. This is her obituary in her own words.

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Ann King
June 7, 1935 - Sept. 10, 2020

Damn. I’m dead.

With my fascination for the unusual and flair for the dramatic, I of course had to have a rare form of cancer my second dance with Big C. I did, however, manage to pack a lot of adventure into life, which began for me on June 7, 1935, in Oakland, California. I was named Ann (for my paternal grandmother, Anna Black King), Hatheway (for my maternal grandmother, Jessie Hatheway Brann), and the “King” came, as you’d expect, from my father, Carl, removed from our family by death at age 40, when I was only two years old.

Piedmont grammar and high schools, U.C. Berkeley, secretarial school, marriage — blah, blah, blah. Two children, Dan Benedict and Scott Benedict — no more blah! Moved to Humboldt County in time for the ‘64 Flood and a divorce. Things picked up later on, fortunately. In spite of their teen-year hijinks, I adored those kids. My only grandchild, Dan’s daughter, Alyx, was a special blessing. The 2010 death of my younger brother, Scott, tore a huge hole in my life. I had three cousins, scattered here and there — “We never did too much talkin’ anyway / But don’t think twice, it’s all right.”

Overall, what a carnival I lived in — art, music, dance, world travel, theatre, questionable relationships and enduring friendships. I was actually amazed at some of the stuff I pulled off. I was an unrepentant “foodie,” loving eating, cooking, and sharing the bounty of my garden and culinary efforts. Tending my garden worked to keep me grounded. I had enormously satisfying theatre roles over a 20-year span. I took prizes with my art. I survived marriage and being single. I sang the Mozart Requiem in a 15O-voice choir, behind a orchestra — an experience I treasured the rest my life. In my early 40s, I drove across the US and back by myself, camping and staying in youth hostels along the way. Met some fascinating fellow travelers of all sorts of ages and countries.

I got a degree in English at age 59, traveled to Sumatra and Kalimantan alone as a graduation gift, and then went to seek my fortune in the publishing world in Santa Rosa, where I lived for five years. While there, I traveled to Guatemala, first as a tourist and then back later to help build a school. Among other adventures, I was privileged to enjoy three memorable three-week stays in Paris.

I dared my fears and ignorance and won (most of the time). My favorite adventures usually involved trying something I’d never done before — all the better if it involved a pastry shop, a foreign marketplace or an art supply source.

I felt honored to have been part of a group of dynamic women, the Heirloom Tomatoes (of Locally Delicious fame) and to have been involved in the start, and on the first board of directors of Ferndale Repertory Theatre. My liberal, questioning spiritual nature found its home at the Humboldt Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, where it was truly okay to color outside dogmatic lines.

I gained a 14-year reprieve after breast cancer — now there was something to be truly thankful for. Who knows where that last cancer experience came from. Did I piss off a muse?

Throughout all this, my frequently harried and stunningly persistent little soul demanded to be known, and I worked for years to free her. I wished I’d paid more attention to her, for she richly rewarded me whenever I did. I worked hard to find the clear stream beneath the tangled surface, and wasted far too much of my precious life doing what I thought someone else expected me to do. If only I’d known way back then what I thought I knew in my later years.

I had first-hand knowledge of what quietly awesome goodness the following organizations are doing for our community. If you feel like remembering me in any way, please consider a donation to Hospice of Humboldt, Food For People, or the Humboldt Unitarian Universalist Fellowship in Arcata.

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