One of the most wonderful things about Ella Sorensen was her sweet nature. To know Ella was to know that she spoke in a voice as lyrical as a meadowlark.
Ella displayed a ready wit and could recite a litany of corny jokes to the amusement of her friends. She flaunted her school-girl crush on Kris Kristofferson and memorized the lines to most of his songs, including Bobby McGee. She was not shy about holding government officials accountable for acts of stupidity. But most of all, Ella loved to have a good time.
Somehow, Ella made being in her company pure delight. Whether it was spending an afternoon chatting at her kitchen table, layered with recent editions of The Park Record and The Salt Lake Tribune editorial page, or attending a Willie Nelson concert with front-row seats in the handicap section, Ella’s zing for life made my heart sing, too.
I am reminded of Ella’s joie de vie by a photograph of her posted on my refrigerator door. Taken at her 90th birthday party last summer, Ella is facing the camera front and center. She is wearing her trademark skirt and blouse ensemble, a tiara sprouting a bunch of candles and a devilish grin.
Ella’s agility and endurance were as remarkable as her bright intellect. She nimbly climbed over icy snow banks to attend library luncheons, Park City Historic Society meetings and the Women’s Athenaeum. And, she made countless climbs up the steep stairs to her home on Rossie Hill long after Shorty, the love of her life, was gone.
Later in life, Ella relied on a wide circle of Park City friends to assist her in her comings and goings and was fond of expressing her gratitude this way: “Oh Leslie (or Syd, or Jack, or Mary), what can I ever do to thank you?” Of course, helping Ella was never a burden. She always brought out the best in us.
On this cool summer afternoon that feels like fall, I am reminded of a slower time in Park City many years ago. Ella’s dear brother and my neighbor, Rusty Prudence, is ambling towards me on Woodside Avenue. It is a brilliant autumn afternoon. Rusty is wearing his signature mechanics coveralls and he calls out to me with his familiar greeting, “Hello-o-o-o Friend!” And then he adds, “Would you join me for some plum picking today?”
In many ways, Ella Sorenson’s spirit reflected the soul of Park City. Her gaiety, her sense of place, her commitment to community, and her sweetness sprouted from being deeply rooted in the small mining town of Park City.
Today, I feel nostalgic for all the good things and fine friends missing from Park City. My friendship with Ella was a treasure as well as a connection to another Park City and another time.
Oh Ella, how can I ever thank you?