Kathryn Elizabeth McCann

Kathryn Elizabeth Wiard McCann M.A.

Kate was born on March 7, 1948 in Sacramento, California. She entered Heaven on September 22, 2019. 

Kathryn loved children and taught for 32 years in both public and private schools. She taught in ten different schools from rural Thermalito to urban Daly City.

She graduated from Chico State with a BA and from San Francisco State with a MA in educational administration. Kathryn worked as a classroom teacher and as a site administrator.

Her last jobs were as a tutor for California Learning Center and a substitute for San Juan Unified.

She was a member of Divine Savior Catholic Church in Orangevale, Delta Kappa Gamma Teacher's Society International, and California Retired Teacher's Association Division #75.

Kathryn was listed in Who's Who among American Teachers three different times.

She is survived by her sister Brahna of Ohio, her daughter, Connie Gallardo and her husband and four precious grandchildren all of Oroville as well as her first cousin James H. Wiard of Sacramento.

Kathryn is being inurned at the family plot in Sacramento City Cemetery. A Memorial Mass was offered at Divine Savior Church. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Crohn's Colitis Foundation or to Divine Savior Catholic Church, St Vincent de Paul Society.

Katie's Birthday

In 1948, the United States had a baby boom. World War II had just ended. GI's were returning home. They were tired of fighting, and wanted to settle down, and start families. Tract houses dotted the once-empty farmlands like mushrooms, springing up overnight. Television antennas topped the roofs like crosses.

God was very busy in heaven. All His angels were working overtime, filling the burgeoning orders for children. Everything was running smoothly until one day in early March. That day, March 7, God stopped the assembly line. "Wait a minute." He said. When God talked, his angels listened. Everything stopped. Although a few of the angels tried to hide their impatience, only one had the temerity to say, "This delay will throw us off schedule, Sir." God looked at the angel and a great silence settled over heaven. After a few moments, God turned back to the rest of the angels. He looked at the conveyor belt, filled with young babies of all colors, sizes, and sexes. "Let me see." God pondered. "I need a very special girl child to go out today. She has to be very, very brave, and very, very kind, and very, very smart. She must have beauty inside and out. She must believe in Me, of course, and let Me guide her through the hard days ahead." All was silent, as God looked and judged, and thought about which child he would choose. "She needs a sense of humor, " God resumed, "A dash of sarcasm. Some Irish pride. Also, a love of music, art, and chocolate." 

Finally, God reached down, His long, flowing sleeves almost covering His great hands. Quick as a flash, he snatched up a small baby. She had dark, curly hair and big brown eyes. "Ah. Just the one." God seemed satisfied. All the angels signed with relief. Now, they could resume their work. Orders were backing up. The little girl looked up at God and giggled, her tiny hands making fists as she wiggled to get down. God continued, holding her closer, "She'll need perseverance, courage, and a love of children." "Why?" one of the bolder angels asked. God fixed him with a look. "Because this child will be a great teacher." "A teacher, Sir?" Angel Gabriel continued. "But teachers work so hard. They never make much money, and they are never famous. They live difficult lives, and get yelled at and spat on, and have to clean up messes."

Again, God was silent. His face grew grave. The angels stilled. The clouds darkened as God thought back to another, ancient time. And another great teacher. That teacher, too, had worked hard. That teacher, too, had been poor. That teacher, too, had been spat on. That teacher, too, had endured pain and hardships. And yet, that teacher had changed the world.

A small tear ran down God's cheek, as he remembered all the agony His Son had suffered. 

God held the baby girl close to his chest, rocking her gently. She cooed up at Him, trusting Him completely. God lifted her up high in the air, so all the angels of heaven could see her and remember her. 

"Suffer little children to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven."

Missing Dad

The smell of his skin when he comes out of the shower

The sound of his voice when he calls my name.

The touch of his hand on my arm when we dance.

His snoring in the night.

The way his eyes light up when he's pleased.

His dark looks when he's made.

But what is mostly missed are:

The sweet secrets only he shared with me.

How he could finish my sentences.

Laughing with me over our children's mistakes

Even while brimming with pride

The shared aches and pains of growing older together

What wouldn't I give 

Just to touch him 

One More Time.

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