Paul and Gail Doherty: Memories of Lois Randall

Paul Doherty:

Lois Randall was a very smart woman.  After attending a junior college for two years, she transferred to U Cal Berkeley, from which she graduated.  There he met the graduate student who would become her husband.  A brilliant young man John was; Lois was his equal.

There were no children, a source of sadness.  Lois worked in publishing; she was a copy editor, first at the Hornbook magazine, then at Beacon Press, then at Houghton-Mifflin.  After retirement, she continued to do freelance work.  Among her last titles were Edwin Newman’s novel, “Sunday Punch,” and Harry Ellis Dickson’s memoir, “Gentlemen, a Little More Dolce.”  She took great ride in her work, which gave her great pleasure.  She made the acquaintance of Dickson when both were at Spring House, the assisted living facility where John and Lois lived for a few years in the 1990’s

Lois the matchmaker.  One Christmas, she and John were at our home for desert.  This was a tradition, Christmas and Thanksgiving.  On this particular Christmas--Kirstin would know the year--we also entertained a recently divorced friend, Rod Hinkle, and his children, friends of our children.   On December 26 Lois was on the phone to Kirstin announcing the sighting of this unattached man.  The rest, as they say, is history.

Lois had strong opinions.  She intensely disliked the politics of Ronald Reagan from his days as governor of California to his terms as President of the United States. (Did she ever support a Republican?  I don’t think so.)  She also intensely disliked the short stories of Flannery O’Connor, which she encountered in a book club.  Her objection had nothing to do, I think, with the author’s theology, but because of what she considered O’Connor’s mean treatment of her uneducated folk.  In her mind, I suppose, the politician and the writer were cut from the same cloth.  Lois had a preferential option for the poor; her family lived on the edge of poverty

But sourness was not a part of Lois’s disposition.  She was a woman of good cheer and warmth, a loyal friend.  These virtues remained in her last years, when most of her abilities had left her.  She was so appreciative of small favors.

A lovely woman, lovingly remembered

Gail Doherty:

Despite geographical distance, Lois stayed in close touch with her mother.  Her father spent years in a nursing home due to a paralyzing stroke.

Lois's mother kept a dress form of Lois, and she often sent her daughter dresses that she had made.

Lois, an avid gardener, had a potted orange tree, which she was given when she retired from Beacon Press.  She cherished the tree for many years and it finally, after many years, rewarded her with many miniature oranges.