I grew to be who I am today because of my wonderful childhood. Raised in a small Oregon town, Prineville, my parents were older. When I was born, my dad, Cliff Campbell, was forty-two and my mom, Tressa Magee Campbell, very Irish, was eleven years younger. Mom was a teacher. She taught in a one-room schoolhouse where they all ate beans from a kettle for lunch. My dad was the operator of a service station. Behind the gas station there were little cabins. The large ones rented for $5.00 a night and the smaller ones for $3.00. My parents cleaned the cabins, and ran a small store inside the station.

I have one brother, Jack, who is three years older. My parents always had a pot of coffee on and welcomed people into our home. I have always had a lot of friends,many are still my friends today. From the day I was born, I loved being around people. Mother always said, “Pretty is as pretty does.” Because of that, I am always nice to people, and I want them to be nice back. If they’re not, I get my feelings hurt.

I loved being a drum majorette, and loved that, also a cheerleader and a gymnast. My dad sold tires at the station, and he would take tires off the wall racks so I could do gymnastics on the racks. I don’t know many dads who would go through so much so their daughter could train.

When I was a senior in high school, I was elected Honored Queen of Job’s Daughters. I had a relative who was a Mason, so I was able to join. I learned about religion, giving back, responsibility and caring.

Of course, we didn’t have T.V., just a little radio. I would go with my dad to the top of a hill to listen to boxing; he loved boxing and we had

better reception up there.

I just had a fine, simple childhood.

When I was in the 6th grade, I decided I wanted to be a nurse. There was a lady nurse, Wanda, who’s husband was in the Army. My mother took care of her son, Michael, while she worked. My mom never charged her. Wanda would talk to me for hours about her experiences as a nurse.

I wanted to go to college. Four of my friends were going, and I didn’t have enough money. My parents were honest with me and said they didn’t have could not send me to college. Someone suggested I be a hairdresser or a secretary, but I wanted to be a nurse.

So, on my own, I went to Providence (Catholic) Hospital in Portland for nurses training. For thirty-seven months I worked in the hospital five hours a day and studied five hours a day for 37 straight months with few breaks. The total cost of training was $500.00. Those were the most wonderful months of my life.

I graduated, passed my boards and became a Registered Nurse. I loved being a nurse, and I worked until ten years ago. While raising my family I was able to work part-time so I would be available to my children and my husband during their formative years.

The women in nurses training all lived in the hospital dorms, and we dated a lot because we had many choices of interns. We had lots of dances, even a Prom, right in the auditorium. We had a make-believe social life. Of course, we were watched over by the nuns.

After college, I rented an apartment with two other nurses. One was Delores O’Hara, the first astronaut nurse. She still works for NASA The other one, Jan, died of diabetes in her thirties.

I worked at the Veterans hospital because they paid the most and I was so tired of being poor. It was the best job with the best pay.  Also, I decided I want to be a stewardess nurse with United Airlines, but on December 7th, 1956 I met my future husband, Joseph Ball.

My dad was a yelling, screaming, cussing sort of guy and my mom lived vicariously through me. When Joey and I told them we wanted to get married, my dad said, “ @#$%^&* Why do you go with this guy when you could be with real doctors?” Joey was a junior in medical school. To my parents, Joey had three marks against him: he was still in school, he was Catholic, and he was Native American. My mom made an appointment for us to see a priest. Much to her dismay, the priest said, “I see no reason you can’t be married.”

Mom was heartsick. She was so proud of me and wanted me to be a stewardess nurse. She did finally give us her blessings for the marriage.

We married on March 24th, 1957, one-hundred and seven days after we first set eyes on each other. I was twenty-one, and Joey was twenty-three. We will be married fifty-nine years this March, if I’m still here.

Dr J’s Comments

I was honored to visit for two hours with a gracious, courageous woman, Marti Bell. She is 80 years young and dying from pancreatic cancer. She was diagnosed in November and chose not to receive traditional treatment. She does not know how long she has, but she has the love of her family, especially her husband Joe, Hospice care in her home, and the desire to dance until the end. Heaven is preparing a Big Band just for her. 1-23-16