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To all ~h~ many 6~L~nd~, ~h~~~ a~~ no wo~d~ ~o ~xp~~~~ ou~ app~~eLa~Lon 6o~ all o6 you~ kLndn~~~~~, p~ay~~~, and lovLng eone~~n a~ ~hL~ ~Lm~. Bu~ w~ wan~ you ~o know ~ha~ ~v~~y ~hLng you hav~ don~, ~aLd, dona~~d, ~c. m~an~ ~o v~~y much ~o ~aeh and ~v~~y 6amLly m~mb~~ a~ ~hL~ ~Lm~.
A mo~~ p~~~onal Thank You wLll be mad~ a~ a la~~~ da~e.
The~ FamLly
~A~CO
SO~WflV1LLE FUWE~Al SflVlCES 1695 Oia9on~l Road
Ak~on~ OhiD 44320 Ttle;hon~: (330]136-2725
In Loving emory
oi
MARGARET W. CAMPBELL
June 13, 1929 - Sep~~be4 2, 1998
Satu~day, S~ptemb~~ 5, 1998 72:00 noon
GRAVESIVE SERVICE GLENDALE CEMETERY
J ~~!Uj Af:x:1ull.a 1?aJUm
Speak~~
MARCO SOMMERVILLE FUNERAL SERVICES 7695 VLagonal Road Ak~on, OhLo 44320
Telephone.: ( 3 3 0 J 8 3 6- 2 7 25
Obituary
MARGARET W. CAMPBELL (n~~ BROWN} wa~ bo~n June 13, 1929 Ln B~Lgh.ton, AR.abama .to .the R..a.te CR..yde and CR..a~a B~own. She gttadua.ted 6~tom B~tLgh.ton HLgh Schoof.. and ~oon .the~tea6.teJt moved .to Ak~ton, OhLo. She wo~ked a.t .the Howe Ho.teR.. 6oJt a ~hoJt.t pe~tLod o6 .tLme. She me.t and maJt~tLed Gu~ CampbeR..R... To .thL~ unLon wa~ boJtn one chLR..d, VenL~e R. CampbeR..R... Heft maJtJtLage and JtaL~Lng heft daugh.teJt became .the mo~.t LmpoJt.tan.t paJt.t o6 heft R..L6e. She enjoyed R..L6e .to .the 6uR..R..e~.t - aR..way~ havLng a ~mLR..e 6oft eve~tyone. Heft home became a 6ocaR.. poLn.t 6oJt en.teJt.taLnLng and 6~LendR..y ~ocLaR.. ga.th-
e~Lng~. Ma~tga~e.t ea~LR..y be6~Lended eve~tyone ~he
came Ln con.tac.t wL.th. Ma~tga~te.t wa~ p~eceded Ln dea.th by .th~tee ~L~.teJt~ and .two b~to.theJt~. She R..eave~ .to mouJtn he~ pa~~ Lng he~t R..ovLng hu~band, Gu~; daugh.teJt, VenL~e; ~on-Ln-R..aw, Ty~tone; and g~tanddaugh.te'L, Chane..; and many veJty dealt 6~tLend~ and ~teR..a.tLve~.
A PSALM OF LIFE Henry W. Longfellow
Tell me not, In mournful numbers, Life Is but en enrpty dreal -
For the soul ts deed that slumbers, And things ere not vhet they see..
Life is reel! Life Is eernest! And the greve is not Its goal;
Dust thou ert, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrov, Is our destined end or vay;
But to act, that each tomorrov Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating, Funeral .arches to the grave.
In the world's br~d field of battle, In the bivouac of life,
Be, not like dub, driven cattle! Be e hero In the strife.
Trust no future, hoveer pleasant! Let the dead Pest bury its dead!
Act, - act I n the I I vI ng Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men ell remind us We can aeke our lives subli.e,
And, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of tl.e;
foo'tprtnts, ttlet perheps enother, Salling o'er life's sole.n aa1n,
A for I orn and sh I pvrecked brother, Seeing, shell take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing, With e heart for eny fate;
.Still echlevtng, stt II pursuing, Learn to tebor and to wet t.