Christina Vail, 67, of Finneytown, escaped this mortal realm on October 27th, leaving behind a yarn stash with its own zip code, a wine collection with its own opinions, and a vacation itinerary that always included a quiz.

She is survived by her daughters, Amanda Rosen and Emily (Mykle) Cain, who will pick up the torch of sustaining all the many family traditions their mother so loved. She is also survived by her grandchildren, Ezra, Penelope, Vivian, and River, who knew her as Gammy; her sister, Jacqueline (David) Jones; and her nephews, Jason (Mandy) Earhart, who called her Nene, and Brian Jones.

She is also survived by her dog, Poppins, who is expected to carry on being impossibly picky about food, which drove her crazy. And by an enormous number of grandpets, including Amanda's five, Emily's two, and a snake named Noodle, who has declined to comment.

She was preceded in death by her parents, Charles and Mary Lou Smith; her grandmother, Katherine Graham; and her beloved dogs, Whiskers, Antony, Cleopatra, and Phoebe. She was not preceded in death by Oscar, the carnival goldfish who grew so large that he was released into her parents' pond, where, for all we know, he still reigns.

Christina made every holiday and birthday feel like magic, which took far more effort than she ever let on. Holiday bread was homemade. Cookie baking was a team sport involving her daughters, her parents, and Grandma “Kake” - one of those traditions that will continue (but maybe not with peanut butter chocolate chip cookie recipes that are tripled and end in a cookie as big as your head). Summers meant the produce patch and ham salad box lunches from Heavenly Ham, followed by a movie at home. The movie was Babe. Nobody ever acknowledged the irony, least of all her. She was at every school event, eventually becoming a teacher herself. She only ever cooked one bad dish, and we still don’t speak of it to this day (though we thank Skyline for the bail out).

She never went to college, so her daughters did. She never learned to swim, so her daughters did, one of them after throwing up in the parking lot. She always wanted to raise confident daughters, so she did. They are grateful now, and they have said so, though not at the time.

No family vacation escaped an educational stop, which is how the family ended up at Plymouth Rock. The trip began late, the camper blew a tire before leaving Ohio, and a New York highway ended with a police escort off a restricted road and a very narrow squeak under an overpass. After dark at the campground, the guard shack was knocked over (it righted itself, mercifully empty) and several trees went to war with the camper. Her daughter Emily looked at her sister and said, in a perfectly flat voice, "I want to go home." The rest of the trip was uneventful, which is also how most people would describe Plymouth Rock.

She loved simple things: a quiet evening, a movie at home with a nice drink, a winery and a good laugh, a bag of popcorn, a book, and time on the porch. She loved studying and learning anything at all. She was one of the best people to talk with, and a steady presence in her family's life.

She was not perfect, and she would say so herself. She drove the people she loved crazy, and they loved her through every bit of it.

The family thanks the nurses and staff at St. Elizabeth and St. Elizabeth Hospice for their kindness.

In lieu of flowers, please learn something new, bake cookies and give half of them away, drink a bottle of wine and have some pizza, or donate to The James in honor of Christina Vail to support their cancer research… and whenever something in your life goes wrong, just tell yourself “No Worries,” because that was the rule at Gammy’s house.