Edwin Donald Hooley

The Story of My Life, by Edwin Donald Hooley “The best things in life aren’t things.” (Art Buchwald) A lot had to happen to bring about an important event on the morning of 4/4/41, when Dr. Nickelsen rescued my tiny baby self during a life-threatening delivery at his small east Portland hospital. My Hooley, Yoder and Hostetler ancestors had to immigrate from Switzerland and make their way to Oregon via Pennsylvania and Missouri, and the Eglis had to travel from Germany to Canada and Iowa before settling in Oregon. Luckily, they had all become members of the Mennonite communities in the Willamette Valley, giving my parents the chance to cross paths. My mother, then Donella Yoder, had to ignore her father’s advice not to marry that Hooley boy. “All they want to do is play,” he warned. I couldn’t be more grateful for her rebellion. I went home with two warm and loving parents who filled my life not with material things, but with laughter, joy, acceptance and yes, play. My family has always been everything to me. From my father Ed, I gained my name, my short stocky build, my distinctive nose, and my quick wit and pun-loving sense of humor. He also introduced me to drawing, which came naturally to me and eventually became my career. I don’t remember “that Hooley boy” ever saying a harsh word to me. We were so close that whenever we were near each other, we’d often hook our pinky fingers together. My mother was always my best friend. I was interested in whatever she was doing, especially cooking. She and Aunt Fern were the best cooks. Because of them, I recognized when food was improperly prepared or poorly seasoned, and I didn’t mind saying so. We spent a lot of time with the Yoders, especially Uncle Bud’s family. His daughters Jan and Toni were the little sisters I never had. Such raucous good fun! I always looked up to my brother Ken, who was six years older. He was tall, handsome, athletic, and ambitious--everything I was not. For a while he tried hard to change me but eventually gave it up as a lost cause. Through my family I learned to love music, playing the piano and singing four-part acapella harmony at home and at Zion Mennonite Church. Mom’s voice was alto, Dad and I were tenors, and Ken bass. In my later years, I joined the Troubadours, a five-man group who sang gospel songs for anyone who would listen. We even recorded an album of songs on CD. I remember my early childhood as happy, secure and fun. I loved school and learned fast. I liked my teachers, and they liked me. They noticed my artistic talents right away and often asked me to do drawings in the classroom. It was there I first heard, “You’re going to be an artist.” High school was another story. I still loved the schoolwork, but the social life was problematic. I knew I was different and felt pressure to conform. The girls accepted me, though, and I had a great time hanging out with them. Several remained my close friends throughout our lives. After high school, I attended the Advertising Art School in Portland, where I learned to make a living with my talents. I also taught at the school while establishing my own business in Portland. I did drawings for architects, interior designers, and retail clothing and furniture advertisers. I became known for consistently delivering projects on time, so I always had a lot of work. Sometimes I worked in my home studio, sometimes in the offices of larger companies like the Lipman Wolfe department store. My dad died in 1973, and a few years later, I moved my business to our family home in Hubbard. My studio there had three windows overlooking our beautiful backyard garden. I had even more business than I’d had in Portland, since local businesses seemed to think city artists would charge more. As computers began to take over, my business dwindled. My studio became a place where I produced paintings at my own pace for my own enjoyment. Many of them are now in the homes of my family and friends. When Mom got sick, I became her sole caregiver. Even as her health continued to deteriorate, she was able to talk and laugh as always. Those seven years were some of the best--and the hardest--of my life. It was devastating when my own health failed, and I had to leave the only family home I’d known since age five. I was lucky to have my nephew Loten Hooley and his family to take on the burden of that sudden move and home sale. I was also lucky to have the watchful companionship of my friends Teddy and Fabi at my home as I was declining. And extra lucky to have so many friends, especially the Gingerich family, who made life in captivity a little more bearable, even when you made me walk. If you are reading this, I have “cacked,” my favorite irreverent word for dying. Thank you all for your love, laughter, friendship and of course, play. Most of all thank you for accepting me for who I am. You have been the best things in my life. *** Ed passed peacefully in his sleep in the early morning of 5/22/25. His remains will lie in Hooley row at Zion Mennonite Church east of Hubbard, Oregon, where the congregation openly welcomes everyone—a seemingly impossible dream come true for him. His brother Ken and nephew Chris preceded him in death. He is survived by the “Coastal Hooleys” of Tillamook County, Oregon, including sister-in-law Dorothy Reiling Hooley, nephew Loten (Jennifer) Hooley and his children Sam and Olivia, and Chris’s widow Lisa Hooley, son Max, and daughter Katie. He is also survived by his dear “little sister” first cousins Jan Yoder of Victoria, British Columbia, and Toni Carver of Kalama, Washington, and sixteen additional first cousins. To request the link to a memorial video of Ed’s life, send an email to eddiedonaldhooley@gmail.com. The celebration of his life will be at 11:00 a.m. on Saturday, July 19, 2025, at Zion Mennonite Church east of Hubbard on Whiskey Hill Road. His send-off will feature joy, laughter and the strawberry shortcake he always promised to celebrate his passing.

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Edwin Donald Hooley

April 4, 1941 - May 22, 2025