THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, May 10, 1995 TAG: 9505090090
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 05 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: IN MEMORIUM
SOURCE: BILL REED
LENGTH: Medium: 70 lines
On warm, sunny days or even excruciatingly hot sunny days at the beach, north enders will think of Annis.
They'll remember her toasting in the sun for hours, day after day, stretched out on her stomach on a folding recliner near the 47th Street steps.
From this roost she would watch the world go by, slowly sifting sand through her sunburned fingers, puffing a cigarette or nibbling at a piece of fruit.
They'll also remember that she missed nothing - not the lost toddlers wandering among the blankets and umbrellas, not the acquaintances striding through the surf with or without their proper mates, not the swimsuits and jewelry that did or did not match or the children and grandchildren of friends who splashed at the shoreline.
There was no hiding from Annis. She saw people for what they really were - the phony, the sincere, the weak, the strong.
That sun-creased face would crinkle into a mischievous grin as she swapped gossip tidbits with neighbors who dropped by to sit awhile beside her in the sun. Newcomers to the beach swiftly became friends and friends swiftly became a part of her wide and varied family, sharing in its triumphs and defeats - no fancy icing added.
If storm clouds kept her from the sun, she would hop in her sport utility wagon and head for any number of stores that radiate from the shore to shop the day away.
These forays invariably resulted in a carload of modest gifts to be distributed among friends, neighbors and family members. Often as not they were tiny rabbit statues, yard flags, dried plant arrangements in small, beribboned baskets, or knickknacks to decorate a porch or mantel.
If you believe in the hereafter and the invincibility of the human spirit, you know Annis is still among us, at the beach, watching and sifting sand. If you believe, you know she'll never leave.
That's why on Saturday, as Atlantic swells sparkled in the morning sun, nearly a hundred true believers - her family members included - gathered in the sand by the bulkhead to celebrate her birthday and to pay her quiet homage.
A framed plaque bearing her name and a brief inscription had been attached to the wooden bulkhead overlooking ``her spot.''
After sipping orange juice from plastic cups and nibbling at doughnut centers, the crowd circled to hear Jean Dolton , a friend and neighbor, read a personal rememberance of Annis, whom she had met on the beach not long ago.
Annis had befriended her as well as her family and grandchildren, Bolton wrote, and concluded the missive this way:
``It's very special to have a caring friend like Annis come along late in one's life, and I am grateful to have known her, even for so short a time. I shall miss her, miss her, miss her. How my heart will sink when I do not see her Bronco parked at 47th Street at the beach. How hard it will be to look an Annis' `spot' on the beach, and not see her! I shall have to content myself with her ghost, so if you find me talking to myself, please know that I will be chatting with Annis - about the glories of the beach and the ocean, about our families and about how the world should be run.
``Rest in peace, good friend.'' MEMO: Annis H. Kampfmueller, wife of Thomas M. Kampfmueller, mother of a
daughter and three sons and grandmother of four grandchildren, died
Feb. 7 at DePaul Hospital of complications resulting from cancer
surgery. She would have been 69 on Saturday.
by CNB